Jii.,^i4;V^tL 


L I  B  RA KY 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 
or    ILLINOIS 

PRE5ENTLD  DY 

THE  ESTATE 

OF 

DR.    AND  MRS.    S.    M.    WYLIE 


1950  , 

834531 
Oe,E 


y 


The  ' 

Foreign  Classical  Romances 

Complete  in  Twenty  Crown  Octavo  Volumes 

WITH    INTRODUCTORY    ESSAYS    BY 

HAMILTON  WRIGHT  MABIE,  L.H.D.,  LL.D, 

Co-Editor  N.  Y.  Outlook. 
Author  of  "Norse  Stories,"   "Eisays  on  Books  and  Culture,"  etc. 

PROF,   MAURICE   FRANCIS  EGAN,  A.M.,  LL.D. 

Catholic  University  of  America. 
Author  of  "Studies   in   Literature,"     "Modern   Novelists,"   etc. 

PROF.  LEO  WIENER 

Harvard  University.     Translator  of  Tolstoy's  Complete  Works. 

Author  of  "Anthology  of  Russian  Literature,"  etc. 

BARON  GUSTAVO  TOSTI 
Doctor  of  Laws,  Naples  University.      Royal  Consul  of  Italy  at  Boston. 

WOLF  VON  SCHIERBRAND 
Former  Berlin  Correspondent  N.  Y.  Evening  Post.     Author  of  "Germany,"  etc. 

A.   SCHADE  VAN  WESTRUM 
Licentiate  Amsterdam  University.     Literary  Editor  N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

General  Editor  :  LIONEL  STRACHEY 

Compiler    of   "Little    Masterpieces    of  Fiction." 

Translator  of  Stories  by  Balzac,   Sudermann,   Serao,  etc. 


FRONTISPIECES  AND    BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCHES 


a.  ^  j^^-^      ^ji. 


VJKTOR  VON  SCHEFFEL 


Ekkehard  Vol.   I 


VIKTOR  VON   SCHEFFEL 


EKKEHARD 

VOLUME    I 

TRANSLATED    FROM 
THE     GERMAN 


# 


A   FRONTISPIECE  AND  A 
BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 


P.  F.  COLLIER  (2r=  SON 
NEW  YORK 


S^453Ji 


u  e.  h 

v^  1 


EKKEHARD 


VOLUME  ONE 


Vol.  3 


(A) -I 


CONTENTS 

:;  '  PAGE 

Life  of  Scheffel 5 

CHAPTER  I 
Hadwig,  Duchess  of  Suabia 9 

CHAPTER  n 
The  Disciples  of  Saint  Gallus 25 

CHAPTER  m 
Wiborad  the  Recluse 46 

*  CHAPTER  IV 
In  the  Monastery 70 

CHAPTER  V 
Ekkehard's  Departure . , . ,     98 

CHAPTER  VI 
Moengal 121 

CHAPTER  VII 

Virgil  on  the  Hohentwiel 140 

■3. 


Contents 

PAGE 

-  CHAPTER  VIII 

AUDIFAX 158 

CHAPTER  IX 
The  Woman  of  the  Wood 177 

CHAPTER  X 
Christmas 205 

CHAPTER  XI 
The  Old  Man  of  the  Pagan's  Cave 227 

CHAPTER  XII 
The  Approach  of  the  Huns 252 

CHAPTER  XIII 
Heribald  and  his  Guests 280 

CHAPTER  XIV 
The  Battle  with  the  Huns 310 


LIFE    OF    SCHEFFEL 

AMONG  all  the  writers  of  modern  Germany 
who  have  been  successfully  instrumental 
toward  molding  that  feeling  for  nationality 
finally  expressed  in  the  throne-room  at  Versailles, 
when  King  William  I  of  Prussia  was  proclaimed 
German  Emperor — among  all  such  writers  it 
would  perhaps  be  difficult  to  name  one  who  was 
at  heart  more  "urdeutsch"  ("fundamentally  Ger- 
man," that  is)  than  the  author  of  "Ekkehard." 
Certainly  no  historical  novel  devoted  to  the 
"Fatherland"  has  ever  known  a  better  reception 
there,  though  it  is  for  the  critical  specialist  to  fix 
the  real  place  of  that  work  in  the  literature  of 
Germany  and  the  world.  But  four  years  prior 
to  the  publication  of  this  romance,  there  had  al- 
ready appeared  the  now  famous  national  epic, 
"The  Trumpeter  of  Sackingen"  (1853),  which 
even  during  ScheffePs  lifetime  ran  through  one 
hundred  editions.  After  his  death — he  was 
born  in  1826,  and  lived  just  sixty  years — the  com- 
poser Nessler  engaged  the  librettist  Bunge  to 
make  an  adaptation  of  that  poem  for  the  text  of 
an  opera  by  the  same  name,  a  charmingly  melo- 

■  -5    .- 


Life  of  Scheffel 

dious  work  still  enjoying  considerable  vogue  in 
Germany.  Sackingen  is  a  little  town  on  the 
Rhine,  about  twenty  miles  east  of  Bale,  and  it 
was  in  this  obscure  spot  of  the  Grand  Duchy  of 
Baden  that  Scheffel  spent,  as  a  jurist,  the  four  or 
five  years  immediately  preceding  the  publication 
of  "The  Trumpeter."  He  was  born  at  the  cap- 
ital, however,  and  he  died,  too,  at  Karlsruhe,  after 
a  long  and  severe  illness. 

Always  a  great  lover  of  mountain  and  river, 
forest  and  field,  he  had  a  somewhat  quiet  and  re- 
tiring disposition,  and  his  liking  for  nature  and 
solitude  he  gratified  by  passing  much  of  his  time 
on  the  shores  of  the  beautiful  Lake  of  Constance, 
so  rich  in  historical  associations,  and  to  the  south 
so  romantically  bordered  by  the  scenery  of  Swit- 
zerland and  the  Tyrol.  Meanwhile,  he  stood  well 
in  the  graces  of  Baden's  grandduke,  who,  in  rec- 
ognition of  his  literary  achievements,  bestowed 
on  him  the  prefix  "von,"  a  titular  distinction  also 
conferred,'  it  may  be  remembered,  on  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  but  one  that,  to  this  very  day,  the  poten- 
tates of  the  Fatherland  dispense  charily  in  reward 
of  literary  merit. 

No  very  lasting  impression  was  made  either  by 
Scheffel's  "Hugideo"  or  "Juniperus,"  historical 
novels  that  followed  "Ekkehard";  but  two  of  his 
volumes  of  verse  are  still  popular,  namely,  the 
jovial   "Gaudeamus"   and   the  elegiacal  "In  the 

6 


Life  of  Scheffel 

Silence  of  the  Forest,"  although  neither  of  these 
has  ever  met  with  the  extraordinary  favor  shown 
to  "The  Trumpeter  of  Sackingen."  Yet,  despite 
the  lack  of  noteworthy  quantity  creditable  to 
Scheffel,  his  quality  seems  to  be  acknowledged 
among  the  people  in  whose  language  he  wrote. 
In  Vienna  a  club  was  founded  in  his  honor,  and 
on  one  of  the  terraces  belonging  to  the  Castle  of 
Heidelberg  there  stands  a  graven  image  of  him, 
looking  toward  the  valley  of  the  grand  old  Ger- 
man Rhine  he  loved  so  well. 


EKKEHARD 
CHAPTER    I 

HADWIG,    DUCHESS   OF    SUABIA 

It  was  almost  a  thousand  years  ago.  The 
world  knew  nothing  as  yet  of  gunpowder  or  the 
art  of  printing. 

Over  the  Hegau  district  there  hung  a  gloomy 
leaden  gray  sky,  corresponding  to  the  mental  dark- 
ness which,  according  to  general  opinion,  op- 
pressed the  whole  era  of  the  Middle  Ages.  From 
the  Lake  of  Constance,  or  Bodensee,  white  mists 
floated  over  the  meads,  covering  up  the  whole 
country.  Even  the  tower  of  the  new  church  at 
Radolfszell  was  thickly  enveloped,  but  the  matin- 
bell  had  rung  merrily  through  mist  and  fog  like 
the  words  of  a  sensible  man,  which  pierce  the 
cloudy  atmosphere  that  fools  create. 

It  is  a  lovely  part  of  Germany  which  lies  there, 
between  the  Black  Forest  and  the  Suabian  Lake. 
All  those  who  are  not  too  strict  and  exacting  about 
poetical  similes  may  be  reminded  of  the  following 
words  of  the  poet: 

9  /■ 


Ekkehard 

"Ah  fair  is  the  Allemannic  land 
With  its  bright  transparent  sky ; 
And  fair  is  its  lake,  so  clear  and  blue 
Like  a  bonny  maiden's  eye; 
Like  yellow  locks,  the  corn-clad  fields 
Surround  this  picture  fair : 
And  to  a  genuine  German  face 
This  land  one  may  compare." 

— though  the  continuation  of  this  allegory  might 
tempt  one  to  celebrate  any  of  the  Hegau  moun- 
tains as  the  prominent  feature  on  the  face  of  this 
country. 

Sternly  the  summit  of  the  Hohentwiel,  with  its 
craggy  points  and  pinnacles,  rises  into  the  air. 
Like  monuments  of  the  stormy,  stirring  Past  of  our 
old  mother  Earth  those  steep  picturesque  moun- 
tain-pyramids rise  from  the  plains  which  were 
once  covered  by  undulating  waves,  as  the  bed  of 
the  present  lake  is  now.  For  the  fish  and  sea-gulls 
it  must  have  been  a  memorable  day,  when  the  roar- 
ing and  hissing  began  in  the  depths  below,  and  the 
fiery  basaltic  masses  made  their  way,  rising  out  of 
the  very  bowels  of  earth,  above  the  surface  of  the 
waters.  But  that  was  long,  long  ago,  and  the  suf- 
ferings of  those  who  were  pitilessly  annihilated  in 
that  mighty  revolution  have  long  been  forgotten. 
Only  the  hills  are  there  still  to  tell  the  weird  tale. 
There  they  stand,  unconnected  with  their  neigh- 

lO 


Ekkehard 

bors,  solitary  and  defiant;  as  those  who  with  fiery 
glowing  hearts  break  through  the  bars  and  fetters 
of  existing  opinions  must  always  be.  Whether 
they  in  their  inmost  heart  have  still  a  recollection 
of  the  glorious  time  of  their  youth,  when  they 
greeted  this  beautiful  upper  world,  for  the  first 
time  with  a  jubilant  cry,  who  knows? 

The  fortress  of  Hohentwiel,  crested  by  stately 
towers  and  walls,  had  been  held  during  his  life- 
time by  Sir  Burkhard,  Duke  of  Suabia.  He  had 
been  a  valiant  knight,  and  done  many  a  good  day's 
fighting  in  his  time.  The  enemies  of  the  Emperor 
were  also  his,  and  so  there  was  always  work  to  do. 
If  everything  was  quiet  in  Italy,  then  the  Normans 
became  troublesome,  and  when  these  were  fairly 
subjugated,  perhaps  the  Hungarians  would  make 
an  invasion,  or  some  bishop  or  mighty  earl  grew 
insolent  and  rebellious,  and  had  to  be  put  down. 
In  this  way  Sir  Burkhard  had  spent  his  days  more 
in  the  saddle  than  in  the  easy-chair,  and  it  was  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  he  had  gained  for  himself 
the  reputation  of  great  valor  and  bravery. 

In  Suabia  it  was  said  that  he  reigned  like  a 
true  despot;  and  in  far-off  Saxony  the  monks  wrote 
down  in  their  chronicles  that  he  had  been  an  al- 
most "invincible  warrior." 

Before  Sir  Burkhard  was  gathered  to  his  fore- 
fathers, he  had  chosen  a  spouse  for  himself,  in  the 
person  of  the  young  Princess  Hadwig,  daughter  of 

II  :-/''' 


Ekkehard 

the  Duke  of  Bavaria.  But  the  evening-glow  of  a 
declining  life  is  ill  matched  with  the  light  of  the 
morning-star.  Such  a  union  is  against  nature's 
laws,  and  Dame  Hadwig  had  accepted  the  old 
Duke  of  Suabia  merely  to  please  her  father.  It 
is  true  that  she  had  nursed  and  tended  hini  well^ 
and  held  his  gray  hairs  in  honor ;  but  when  the  old 
man  laid  himself  down  to  die  grief  did  not  break 
her  heart. 

When  all  was  over  she  buried  him  in  the  vault 
of  his  ancestors,  erected  a  monument  of  gray  sand- 
stone to  his  memory,  placed  an  ever-burning  lamp 
over  his  grave,  and  sometimes — not  too  often — 
came  down  there  to  pray. 

Thus  Dame  Hadwig  lived  now  all  alone  in  the 
castle  of  Hohentwiel.  She  remained  in  possession 
of  all  the  landed  property  of  her  husband,  with 
full  right  to  do  with  it  what  she  pleased.  Besides 
this  she  was  lady  patroness  of  the  bishopric  of  Con- 
stance and  all  the  cloisters  near  the  lake,  and  the 
Emperor  had  given  her  a  bill  of  feoffment  signed 
and  sealed  by  his  own  hand,  by  which  the  regency 
of  Suabia  remained  her  own,  as  long  as  she  kept 
true  to  her  widowhood.  The  young  widow  pos- 
sessed a  very  aristocratic  mind  and  no  ordinary 
amount  of  beauty.  Her  nose,  however,  was  a  trifle 
short,  the  lovely  lips  had  a  strong  tendency  to 
pout,  and  in  her  boldly  projecting  chin,  the  grace- 
ful dimple,  so  becoming  to  women,  was  not  pres- 

12 


Ekkehard 

ent.  All  those  whose  features  are  thus  formed 
unite  to  a  clear  intellect  a  not  over-tender  heart, 
and  their  disposition  is  more  severe  than  charita- 
ble. For  this  reason  the  Duchess,  in  spite  of  her 
soft,  beautiful  complexion,  inspired  many  of  her 
subjects  with  a  sort  of  trembling  awe. 

On  that  misty  day  aforementioned  the  Duchess 
was  standing  at  one  of  her  chamber-windows  look- 
ing out  into  the  distance.  She  wore  a  steel-gray 
undergarment,  which  fell  down  in  graceful  folds 
on  her  embroidered  sandals,  and  over  this  a  tight- 
fitting  black  tunic,  reaching  to  the  knees.  In  the 
girdle  encircling  her  waist  there  glittered  a  large 
precious  beryl.  Her  chestnut-brown  hair  was  con- 
fined within  a  net  of  gold  thread,  but  round  her 
clear  forehead  some  stray  curls  played  unrestrain- 
edly. On  a  small  table  of  white  marble  stood  a 
fantastically  shaped  vessel  of  dark  green  bronze, 
in  which  some  foreign  frankincense  was  burning, 
sending  its  fragrant  white  little  cloudlets  up  to  the 
ceiling.  The  walls  were  covered  with  many-col- 
ored finely  woven  tapestry. 

There  are  days  when  one  is  dissatisfied  with 
everything  and  everybody,  and  if  one  were  sud- 
denly transported  into  paradise  itself,  even  para- 
dise would  not  give  contentment.  At  such  times 
the  thoughts  wander  gloomily  from  this  to  that 
subject,  not  knowing  on  what  to  fix  themselves; 
out  of  every  corner  a  distorted  face  seems  grinning 

■    13 


Ekkehard 

at  us,  and  he  who  is  gifted  with  a  very  fine  ear 
may  even  hear  the  derisive  laughter  of  the  goblins. 
It  is  a  belief  in  those  parts  that  the  universal  con- 
trariety of  such  days  arises  from  people  having 
stepped  out  of  bed  with  their  left  foot  foremost, 
which  is  held  to  be  in  direct  opposition  to  nature. 

Under  the  spell  of  such  a  day  the  Duchess  was 
laboring  just  now.  She  wanted  to  look  out  of  the 
window,  and  a  subtle  wind  blew  the  mist  right 
into  her  face,  which  annoyed  her.  She  began  to 
cough  hastily,  but  no  doubt  if  the  whole  country 
had  lain  before  her  bathed  in  sunshine  she  would 
have  found  fault  with  that  also.  I 

Spazzo,  the  chamberlain,  had  come  in  mean- 
while and  stood  respectfully  waiting  near  the  en- 
trance. He  threw  a  smiling,  complacent  look  on 
his  outward  equipment,  feeling  sure  to  attract  his 
mistress's  eye  to-day,  for  he  had  put  on  an  em- 
broidered shirt  of  finest  linen  and  a  splendid  sap- 
phire-colored upper  garment,  with  purple  seams. 
Everything  was  made  in  the  latest  fashion;  and 
the  bishop's  tailor  at  Constance  had  brought  the 
articles  over  only  the  day  before. 

The  wolf-dog  of  the  knight  of  Friedingen  had 
killed  two  lambs  of  the  ducal  herd;  therefore  Mas- 
ter Spazzo  intended  to  make  his  dutiful  report 
and  obtain  Dame  Hadwig's  ducal  opinion,  whether 
he  should  conclude  a  peaceful  agreement  with  the 
dog's  master,  or  whether  he  were  to  bring  in  a 

14  I-. 


Ekkehard 

suit  at  the  next  session  of  the  tribunal  to  have  him 
fined  and  sentenced  to  pay  damages.  So  he  began 
his  well-prepared  speech,  but  before  he  had  got 
to  the  end  he  saw  the  Duchess  make  a  stgn,  the 
meaning  of  which  could  not  remain  unintelligible 
to  a  sensible  man.  She  put  her  forefinger  first  up 
to  her  forehead,  and  then  pointed  with  it  to  the 
door.  So  the  chamberlain  perceived  that  it  was 
left  to  his  own  wits,  not  only  to  find  the  best  expe- 
dient with  regard  to  the  lambs,  but  also  to  take 
himself  off  as  quickly  as  possible.  With  a  pro- 
found bow  he  withdrew  accordingly. 

In  clear  tones  Dame  Hadwig  now  called  out: 
"Praxedis !" — and  when  the  person  thus  named  did 
not  instantly  make  her  appearance,  she  repeated  in 
sharper  accents,  "Praxedis !" 

It  was  not  long  before  Praxedis  entered  the 
closet,  with  light,  graceful  steps.  Praxedis  was 
waiting-maid  to  the  Duchess  of  Suabia.  She  was 
a  Greek  and  a  living  proof  that  the  son  of  the  By- 
zantine Emperor  Basilius  had  once  asked  the  fair 
Hadwig's  hand  in  marriage.  He  had  made  a  pres- 
ent of  the  clever  child,  well  instructed  in  music 
and  the  art  of  the  needle,  together  with  many 
jewels  and  precious  stones,  to  the  German  duke's 
daughter,  and  in  return  had  received  a  refusal. 
At  that  time  one  could  give  away  human  beings 
as  well  as  buy  and  sell  them.  Liberty  was  not 
everybody's  birthright.     But  slavery  such  as  the 

15    ■:-; 


Ekkehard 

Greek  child  had  to  endure  in  the  ducal  castle  in 
Suabia  was  not  a  very  hard  lot. 

Praxedis  had  a  small  head  with  pale,  delicate 
features,  out  of  which  a  pair  of  large  dark  eyes 
looked  into  the  world,  unspeakably  sad  one  mo- 
ment and  in  the  next  sparkling  with  merriment. 
Her  hair  was  arranged  over  her  forehead  in  heavy 
braids,  like  a  coronet.     She  was  very  beautiful. 

"Praxedis,  where  is  the  starling?"  said  Dame 
Hadwig. 

"I  will  bring  it,"  replied  the  Greek  maid ;  and 
she  went  and  fetched  the  black  little  fellow,  who 
sat  in  his  cage  with  an  important,  impudent  air,  as 
if  his  existence  were  filling  up  a  vast  gap  in  the 
universe.  The  starling  had  made  his  fortune  at 
Hadwig's  wedding-feast.  An  old  fiddler  and  jug- 
gler had  taught  him,  with  infinite  pains,  to  repeat 
a  Latin  wedding-speech,  and  great  was  the  merri- 
ment when  at  the  banquet  the  bird  was  put  on  the 
table  to  say  his  lesson,  "A  new  star  has  risen  on 
the  Suabian  firmament;  its  name  is  Hadwig.  Hail, 
all  hail !"  and  so  forth. 

But  this  was  not  all  the  knowledge  which  the 
starling  possessed.  Besides  these  rhymes,  he  could 
also  recite  the  Lord's  Prayer.  Now  the  bird  was 
very  obstinate,  and  had  his  caprices,  as  well  as  the 
Duchess  of  Suabia. 

On  this  particular  day  the  latter  must  have  been 
thinking  of  old  times,  and  the  starling  was  to  de- 

i6 


Ekkehard 

liver  the  wedding-speech.  The  starling,  however, 
had  one  of  his  pious  moods.  When  Praxedis 
brought  him  into  the  chamber  he  called  out  sol- 
emnly: "Amen!"  and  when  Dame  Hadwig  gave 
him  a  piece  of  gingerbread,  and  asked  him  in  coax- 
ing tones :  'What  was  the  name  of  the  star  on  the 
Suabian  firmament,  my  pretty  one?"  he  slowly  re- 
sponded: "Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  But 
when  she  whispered  to  him  to  brighten  his  mem- 
ory: "The  star's  name  is  Hadwig,  all  hail!"  then 
the  starling,  continuing  in  his  pious  strain,  said: 
"And  deliver  us  from  evil." 

"What,  do  birds  even  become  insolent  now?"  ex- 
claimed Dame  Hadwig  angrily.  "Pussy,  where  art 
thou?"  and  she  enticed  toward  her  the  black  cat, 
which  had  long  had  an  evil  eye  upon  the  starling, 
and  which  crept  near  softly  with  glittering  eyes. 

Dame  Hadwig  opened  the  cage,  and  left  the 
bird  to  its  mercy,  but  the  starling,  although  the 
sharp  claws  had  got  hold  of  him  already,  ruffling 
and  tearing  his  feathers,  yet  managed  to  escape, 
and  flew  out  at  the  open  window. 

In  a  few  moments  he  had  become  a  mere  black 
speck  in  the  mist. 

"Well,  now  really  I  might  as  well  have  kept 
him  in  the  cage,"  said  Dame  Hadwig.  "Praxedis, 
what  dost  thou  think?" 

"My  mistress  is  always  right  whatever  she  does," 
replied  the  Greek  maiden. 

17     '  /  ■• 


Ekkehard 

"Praxedis,"  continued  the  Duchess,  "go  and 
fetch  me  my  trinkets.    I  wish  to  put  on  a  bracelet." 

So  Praxedis,  the  ever-willing,  went  away,  and 
returned  with  the  casket  of  jewels.  This  casket 
was  made  of  silver;  on  it  a  few  figures  had  been 
embossed,  representing  the  Saviour  as  the  good 
Shepherd;  St.  Peter  with  the  keys  and  St.  Paul 
with  the  sword,  and  around  these  manifold  leaves 
and  twisted  ornaments.  Probably  it  had  served 
for  the  keeping  of  relics  formerly.  Sir  Burkhard 
had  once  brought  it  home,  but  he  did  not  like  to 
speak  about  it;  for  he  returned  at  that  time  from 
a  feud,  in  which  he  had  vanquished  and  heavily 
thrown  some  bishop  of  Burgundy. 

When  the  Duchess  opened  the  casket,  the  rich 
jewels  sparkled  and  glittered  beautifully  on  their 
red  velvet  lining.  Looking  at  such  tokens  of  re- 
membrance, many  old  memories  came  floating  up 
to  the  surface  again.  Among  other  things  there 
lay  also  the  miniature  of  the  Greek  prince  Con- 
stantine — smooth,  pretty,  and  spiritless.  It  had 
been  painted  by  the  Byzantine  master  on  a  back- 
ground of  gold. 

"Praxedis,"  said  Dame  Hadwig,  "how  would  it 
have  been  if  I  had  given  my  hand  to  that  yellow- 
cheeked,  peak-nosed  prince  of  yours?"  i 

"My  liege  Lady,"  was  the  answer,  "I  am  sure 
that  it  would  have  been  well."  I 

"Well,"   continued    Dame   Hadwig,   "tell   me 

i8 


Ekkehard 

something  about  your  own  dull  home.  I  should 
like  to  know  what  my  entrance  into  Constanti- 
nople would  have  been  like." 

"Oh,  princess,"  said  Praxedis,  "my  home  is 
beautiful;"  and  with  a  melancholy  look  her  dark 
eyes  gazed  into  the  misty  distance — "and  such  a 
dreary  sky,  at  least,  would  have  been  spared  you 
on  the  Sea  of  Marmora.  Even  you  would  have 
uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  when  borne  along  by  the 
proud  galley,  past  the  seven  towers,  the  glittering 
masses  of  palaces,  cupolas,  churches,  everything  of 
dazzling  white  marble  from  the  quarries  of  Pro- 
konnesos,  had  first  burst  on  our  sight.  From  the 
blue  waves  the  stately  water-lily  proudly  lifts  her 
snowy  petals,  here  a  wood  of  dark  cypress  trees, 
there  the  gigantic  cupola  of  the  Hagia  Sophia;  on 
one  side  the  long-stretched  cape  of  the  Golden 
Horn,  and  opposite,  on  the  Asiatic  shore,  another 
magnificent  city.  And  like  a  golden  blue  girdle, 
the  sea,  freighted  with  its  innumerable  ships,  en- 
circles this  magic  sight.  Oh,  my  mistress,  even  in 
my  dreams  far  away  here  in  the  Suabian  land,  I 
can  not  realize  the  splendor  of  that  view.  And 
then,  when  the  sun  has  sunk  down,  and  the  sable 
night  steals  over  the  glittering  waves,  then  every- 
thing is  bathed  in  blue  Greek  fire  in  honor  of  the 
royal  bride.  Now  we  enter  the  port.  The  big 
chain  which  usually  bars  it  drops  down  before  the 
bridal  ship.    Torches  burn  on  the  shore.    There 

19 


Ekkehard  I 

stand  the  Emperor's  bodyguard,  the  Varagians 
with  their  two-edged  battle-axes,  and  the  blue-eyed 
Normans;  there  the  patriarch  with  innumerable 
priests ;  ever)rwhere  one  hears  music  and  shouts  of 
joy,  and  the  imperial  prince  in  the  bloom  of  youth 
welcomes  his  betrothed,  and  the  royal  train  direct 
their  steps  toward  the  palace  of  Blacharnae.  .  .  .** 
"And  all  this  splendor  I  have  thrown  away,'^ 
sneered  Dame  Hadwig.  "Praxedis,  thy  picture  is 
not  complete,  for  on  the  following  day  comes  the 
patriarch  to  hold  a  sharp  discourse  with  the  west- 
ern Christian,  and  to  instruct  her  in  all  the  heresies 
which  flourish  on  the  barren,  arid  soil  of  your  re- 
ligion, like  deadly  nightshade  and  henbane.  Then 
I  am  instructed  what  to  believe  of  their  monkish 
pictures  and  the  decrees  of  the  Councils  of  Chal- 
cedon  and  Nicaea.  After  him  comes  the  mistress 
of  the  ceremonies,  to  teach  me  the  laws  of  eti- 
quette and  court  manners ;  what  expression  to  wear 
on  my  face,  and  how  to  manage  my  train ;  when  to 
prostrate  myself  before  the  Emperor  and  when  to 
embrace  my  mother-in-law.  Further,  how  to  treat 
this  or  that  favorite  with  courtesy,  and  to  use  this 
or  that  monstrous  form  of  speech  in  addressing 
some  wonderful  personage:  'If  it  please  your  Emi- 
nence, your  Highness,  your  adorable  Greatness!' 
Whatever  can  be  called  originality  and  natural 
strength  is  nipped  in  the  bud,  and  my  lord  and 
master  turns  out  to  be  a  painted  doll  like  the  rest. 

20  -     .  I  ' 


Ekkehard 

Then  perhaps  some  fine  morning  the  enemy 
appears  before  the  gates,  or  the  successor  is  not 
to  the  liking  of  the  Blues  and  Greens  of  the 
Circus;  revolution  rages  through  the  streets,  and 
the  German  duke's  daughter  is  put  into  a  convent, 
bereft  of  her  eyesight.  .  .  .  What  good  does  it  do 
her  then  that  her  children  were  addressed  as  their 
Highnesses  when  still  in  the  cradle?  Therefore, 
Praxedis,  I  did  not  go  to  Constantinople!" 

"The  Emperor  is  the  master  of  the  universe,  and 
his  will  is  forever  just,"  said  the  Greek,  "so  I  have 
been  taught  to  believe." 

"Hast  thou  ever  reflected  that  it  is  a  very  pre- 
cious boon  for  a  man  to  be  his  own  master?" 

"No,"  said  Praxedis. 

The  turn  which  the  conversation  had  taken 
pleased  the  Duchess. 

"What  account  of  me  did  your  Byzantine 
painter  who  was  sent  to  take  my  likeness  carry 
home,  I  wonder?" 

The  Greek  maid  seemed  not  to  have  heard  the 
question.  She  had  risen  from  her  seat  and  gone 
to  the  window. 

"Praxedis,"  said  the  Duchess  with  asperity,  "I 
want  an  answer." 

Thus  questioned,  Praxedis  turned  round  and, 
faintly  smiling,  said:  "That  was  a  pretty  long  time 
ago,  but  Master  Michael  Thallelaios  did  not 
speak  over  well  of  you.    He  told  us  that  he  had 

21 


Ekkehard  j 

prepared  his  finest  colors  and  gold-leaves,  that  you 
had  been  a  lovely  child,  and  that  when  brought  be- 
fore him  to  be  painted,  he  had  felt  as  if  he  must  do 
his  very  utmost,  a  thrill  of  awe  coming  over  him 
as  when  he  painted  God's  holy  mother  for  the 
monastery  of  Athos.  But  Princess  Hadwig  had 
been  pleased  to  distort  her  face;  and  when  he 
had  ventured  to  raise  a  modest  objection,  her 
Grace  put  out  her  tongue,  held  two  outspread 
hands  to  her  nose,  and  said  in  very  graceful  broken 
Greek  that  this  was  the  right  position  to  be  painted 
in.  The  imperial  court  painter  profited  by  the  oc- 
casion to  express  his  opinion  about  the  want  of 
manners  and  education  in  German  lands,  and 
has  vowed  never  again  to  try  and  paint  a  young 
German  lady.  And  the  Emperor  Basilius  on  hear- 
ing this  account  growled  fiercely  through  his 
beard.  .  .  ." 

"Let  his  Majesty  growl  as  long  as  he  chooses," 
said  the  Duchess,  "and  pray  to  Heaven  that  he  may 
bestow  the  patience  which  I  lost  that  day,  on 
others.  I  have  not  yet  had  an  opportunity  of  see- 
ing any  monkeys,  but  according  to  all  that  is  told 
about  them,  by  trustworthy  men,  Master  Michael's 
pedigree  must  extend  to  those  members  of  the 
creation."  I 

Meanwhile  she  had  put  on  the  bracelet.  It  rep- 
resented two  serpents  twisted  together  and  kissing 
each  other.     On  the  head  of  each  rested  a  tiny 

22 


Ekkehard 

crown.  From  the  mass  of  other  trinkets,  a  heavy 
silver  arrow  had  got  into  her  hands  and  it  also  left 
its  prison-house  for  a  fairer  abode.  It  was  drawn 
through  the  meshes  of  the  golden  threaded  net. 

As  if  to  try  the  effect  of  the  ornaments,  Dame 
Hadwig  now  walked  with  stately  steps  through  the 
chamber.  Her  attitude  seemed  to  challenge  ad- 
miration, but  the  hall  was  empty;  even  the  cat  had 
slunk  away.  Mirrors  there  were  none  on  the  walls, 
and  as  for  the  furniture,  its  adaptation  to  comfort 
was  but  small,  according  to  our  present  views. 

Praxedis's  thoughts  were  still  busy  with  the  sub- 
ject just  discussed.  "My  gracious  Mistress,"  said 
she,  "I  nevertheless  felt  sorry  for  him." 

"Sorry  for  whom?" 

"For  the  Emperor's  son.  He  said  that  you  had 
appeared  to  him  in  a  dream,  and  that  all  his  hap- 
piness depended  upon  you." 

"Let  the  dead  rest,"  said  Dame  Hadwig  testily. 
"I  had  rather  that  you  took  your  guitar  and  sang 
me  the  Greek  ditty: 

" 'Constantine,  thou  foolish  lad — 
Constantine,  leave  off  thy  weeping!'  " 

"The  lute  is  broken,  and  all  the  strings  torn,  since 
my  Lady  Duchess  pleased  to  .    .    ." 

"To  throw  it  at  the  head  of  Count  Boso  of  Bur- 
gundy," said  Dame  Hadwig.    "That  was  well  done 

23 


■■-■vfiSv-'^? 


Ekkehard  I 

indeed,  for  who  told  him  to  come  uninvited  to 
Sir  Burkhard's  funeral,  and  to  preach  to  me,  as  if 
he  were  a  saint?  So  we  will  have  the  lute  mended, 
and  meanwhile,  my  Greek  treasure,  canst  thou  tell 
me  why  I  have  donned  these  glittering  ornaments 
to-day?" 

"God  is  all-knowing,"  said  the  Greek  maid,  "I 
can  not  tell."  ^ 

After  this  she  was  silent.  So  was  Dame  Had- 
wig,  and  there  ensued  one  of  those  long  significant 
pauses  generally  preceding  confession.  At  last  the 
Duchess  said :  "Well,  to  say  the  truth,  I  don't  know 
myself!" — and  looking  dismally  at  the  floor, 
added :  "I  believe  I  did  it  because  there  was  noth- 
ing else  to  do.  But  then  the  top  of  the  Hohentwiel 
is  a  dreary  nest — especially  for  a  widow.  Prax- 
edis,  dost  thou  know  a  remedy  against  dulness?" 

"I  once  heard  from  a  very  wise  preacher,"  said 
Praxedis,  "that  there  are  several  remedies.  Sleep- 
ing, drinking,  and  traveling — ^but  that  the  best  i*' 
fasting  and  praying."  I 

Then  Dame  Hadwig  rested  her  head  on  her  lily- 
white  hand,  and  looking  sharply  at  the  quick- 
witted Greek,  she  said :  "To-morrow  we  will  go  on 
a  journey."  j 


24 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    DISCIPLES     OF    SAINT     GALLUS 

The  next  day,  the  Duchess  crossed  the  Boden- 
see  in  the  early  glow  of  the  morning  sun,  accom- 
panied by  Praxedis  and  a  numerous  train.  The 
lake  was  beautifully  blue;  the  flags  floated  in  the 
air,  and  much  fun  was  going  on,  on  board  the 
ship.  And  who  could  be  melancholy,  when  glid- 
ing over  the  clear,  crystal  waters;  past  the  green 
shores  with  their  many  towers  and  castles;  snowy 
peaks  rising  in  the  distance;  and  the  reflection  of 
the  white  sails,  trembling  and  breaking  in  the 
playful  waves? 

Nobody  knew  where  the  end  of  the  journey  was 
to  be.  But  then  they  were  accustomed  to  obey 
without  questioning. 

When  they  approached  the  bay  at  Rorschach, 
the  Duchess  commanded  them  to  land  there.  So 
the  prow  was  turned  to  the  shore,  and  soon  after 
she  crossed  lightly  over  the  rocking  plank  and 
stepped  on  land.  Here  the  toll-gatherer,  who  re- 
ceived the  duty  from  all  those  who  traveled  to 
Italy,  and  the  market-master,  as  well  as  those  who 

Vol.  3  ((A)-i2 


Ekkehard 

held  any  official  position,  came  to  meet  their  sov- 
ereign; and  calling  out  lustily  "Hail  Mistress  1" 
waved  big  branches  of  mighty  fir  trees  over  their 
heads.  Graciously  returning  their  salutations,  the 
Duchess  walked  through  the  deferential  crowd, 
which  fell  back  on  either  side,  and  ordered  her 
chamberlain  to  distribute  some  silver  coins — 
but  there  was  not  much  time  for  tarrying.  Al- 
ready the  horses  which  had  been  secretly  sent  on 
before,  in  the  night,  stood  ready  waiting,  and  when 
all  were  in  the  saddle.  Dame  Hadwig  gave  the 
word  of  command:  "To  the  holy  Gallus."  Then 
her  servants  looked  at  each  other  with  wondering 
eyes,  as  if  asking,  "What  business  can  we  have 
there?"  But  there  was  not  even  time  for  an  an- 
swer, as  the  cavalcade  was  already  cantering  over 
the  hilly  ground  toward  the  monastery  itself. 

St.  Benedict  and  his  disciples  knew  very  well 
on  what  places  to  build  their  monasteries.  Up- 
hill and  downhill,  wherever  you  find  a  large 
building,  which  like  a  fortress  commands  a 
whole  tract  of  land,  or  blocks  up  the  entrance  to 
a  valley,  or  forms  the  central  point  of  crossing 
highways,  or  that  lies  buried  among  vineyards, 
famous  for  their  exquisite  wines — there  the  passing 
tourist — until  the  contrary  has  been  proved  to  him 
— may  boldly  advance  the  assertion  that  the  house 
in  question  belongs,  or  rather  belonged  formerly, 
to  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  for  in  our  days  mon- 

26 


Ekkehard 

asteries  become  scarcer  and  inns  more  plentiful, 
which  phenomenon  may  be  ascribed  to  the  prog- 
ress of  civilization. 

The  Irish  saint  Gallus  had  also  chosen  a  lovely 
spot  when,  pining  for  forest-air,  he  had  settled 
down  in  this  Helvetian  solitude :  in  a  high  moun- 
tain-glen, separated  by  steep  hills  from  the  milder 
shores  of  the  Bodensee,  through  which  many  a 
wild  torrent  rushed  in  mad  flight,  while  on  the 
other  side  rose  the  gigantic  rocks  of  the  Alpstein, 
whose  snow-capped  peaks  disappear  in  the  clouds, 
there,  sheltered  by  the  mountain,  the  monastery 
lay  cradled  at  its  foot.  It  was  a  strange  thing  for 
those  apostles  of  Albion  and  Erin  to  extend  their 
missions  into  the  German  continent,  but  if  one 
examines  the  matter  closely,  their  merit  in  doing 
so  is  not  so  great  as  it  appears  at  first  sight. 

"The  taste  for  visiting  foreign  lands  is  so  deeply 
rooted  in  the  minds  of  Britons,  that  it  can  not  be 
eradicated" — thus  wrote  as  early  as  in  the  times 
of  Charlemagne,  a  simple,  trustworthy  historian. 
They  were  simply  the  predecessors  and  ancestors 
of  the  present  British  tourists,  and  might  be  rec- 
ognized even  at  a  distance  by  the  foreign,  curious 
shape  of  their  knapsacks.  Now  and  then  one  of 
them  would  settle  down  for  good  somewhere,  al- 
though the  honest  natives  of  the  soil  did  not  al- 
ways look  with  favorable  eyes  on  the  intruder. 
Still  their  greater  pertinacity,  the  inheritance  of 

27 


Ekkehard 

all  Britons,  the  art  of  colonizing  and  the  mystic 
veneration  which  all  that  is  foreign,  always  in- 
spires in  the  lower  classes,  made  their  missionary 
endeavors  rather  successful.  With  other  times  we 
have  other  customs!  In  the  present  day  the  de- 
scendants of  those  saints  are  making  railroads  for 
the  Swiss,  for  good  Helvetian  money. 

On  the  spot  near  the  Steinach  where  once  had 
stood  the  simple  cell  of  the  Hibernian  hermit, 
and  where  he  had  fought  with  bears,  goblins,  and 
water-fairies,  a  spacious  monastery  had  been  built. 
Above  the  lower  shingle-covered  roofs  of  the 
dwelling  and  school  houses,  the  octagon  church- 
tower  rose  in  all  its  splendor;  granaries,  cellars, 
and  sheds  abounded  also,  and  even  the  merry 
sound  of  a  mill-wheel  might  be  heard,  for  all  the 
necessaries  of  life  had  to  be  prepared  within  the 
precincts  of  the  cloister;  so  that  the  monks  need 
not  go  too  far  beyond  the  boundaries,  thereby 
endangering  their  souls.  A  strong  wall,  with 
heavy  well-barred  gates,  surrounded  the  whole; 
less  for  ornament  than  for  security,  since  there 
was  many  a  powerful  knight  in  those  times  who 
did  not  much  heed  the  last  commandment,  "Do 
not  covet  thy  neighbor's  goods." 

It  was  past  the  dinner-hour,  and  a  deep  calm 
lay  over  the  valley.  The  rules  of  St.  Benedict 
prescribed  that  at  that  hour  everybody  should 
seek  his  couch,  and  though  on  that  side  of  the 

28 


Ekkehard 

Alps  the  terrible  heat  of  an  Italian  sun,  which 
forces  one  into  the  arms  of  Morpheus,  is  never 
felt,  the  pious  monks  nevertheless  followed  this 
rule  to  the  letter. 

Only  the  guard  on  the  watch-tower  stood  up- 
right and  faithful  as  ever,  near  the  little  chamber- 
window,  waging  war  with  the  innumerable  flies 
buzzing  about  him.  His  name  Was  Romeias,  and 
he  was  noted  for  keeping  a  sharp  lookout. 

Suddenly  he  heard  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet  in 
the  neighboring  fir-wood,  to  which  he  listened  in- 
tently. "Eight  or  ten  horsemen,"  muttered  he, 
and  upon  this  quickly  dropped  down  the  port- 
cullis from  the  gate,  drew  up  the  little  bridge 
leading  over  the  moat,  and  then  took  his  horn 
from  a  nail  in  the  wall.  Finding  that  some 
spiders  had  been  weaving  their  cobwebs  in  it,  he 
gave  it  a  good  rubbing. 

At  that  moment  the  outriders  of  the  cavalcade 
became  visible  on  the  outskirts  of  the  pine-wood. 
When  Romeias  caught  sight  of  them,  he  first 
scratched  his  head  and  then  eyed  the  approach- 
ing party  with  a  very  puzzled  look.  "Women 
folk?"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  but  in  that  exclamation 
there  was  neither  pleasure  nor  edification. 

He  seized  his  horn  and  blew  three  times  into 
it,  with  all  his  might.  They  were  rough,  uncouth 
notes  that  he  produced,  from  which  one  might 
conclude  that  neither  the  muses  nor  the  graces 

29 


Ekkehard 

had  kindly  surrounded  the  cradle  of  Romeias 
when  he  first  saw  the  light  of  this  world  at  Villin- 
gen  in  the  Black  Forest. 

Any  one  who  has  often  been  in  a  wood  must 
have  observed  the  life  in  an  ant-hill.  There, 
everything  is  well  organized;  each  ant  attending 
to  its  business  and  perfect  harmony  reigning  in  all 
the  bustle  and  movement.  Now  you  put  your 
stick  into  it,  frightening  the  foremost  ants,  and 
instantly  all  is  wild  confusion,  and  a  disorderly 
running  hither  and  thither  ensues.  And  all  this 
commotion  has  been  brought  about  by  one  single 
movement  of  your  stick.  Now  the  sounds  coming 
from  the  horn  of  Romeias  had  just  the  same  dis- 
turbing effect  in  the  monastery. 

The  windows  of  the  great  hall  in  the  school- 
house  were  filled  with  young  inquisitive  faces. 
Many  a  lovely  dream  vanished  out  of  the  solitary 
cells,  without  ever  coming  to  an  end,  and  many  a 
profound  meditation  of  half-awake  thinkers  as 
well.  The  wicked  Sindolt,  who  at  this  hour  used 
to  read  the  forbidden  book  of  Ovid's  "Art  of 
Love,"  hastily  rolled  up  the  parchment  leaves  and 
hid  them  carefully  in  his  straw  mattress. 

The  Abbot  Cralo  jumped  up  from  his  chair; 
stretched  his  arms  heavy  with  sleep,  and  then  dip- 
ping his  forefinger  into  a  magnificent  silver  \yash- 
ing  basin,  standing  before  him  on  a  stone  table, 
wetted  his  eyes  to  drive  away  the  drowsiness  that 

30 


Ekkehard 

was  still  lingering  there.  After  this  he  limped  to 
the  open  bow-window,  but  when  he  beheld  who  it 
was  that  had  occasioned  all  this  disturbance,  he 
was  as  unpleasantly  surprised  as  if  a  walnut  had 
dropped  on  his  head,  and  exclaimed:  "St.  Benedict 
save  us!  my  cousin  the  Duchess!" 

He  then  quickly  adjusted  his  habit,  gave  a  brush 
to  the  scanty  tuft  of  hair  which  his  head  still 
boasted  of  and  that  grew  upward  like  a  pine-tree 
in  a  sandy  desert;  put  on  his  golden  chain  with 
the  cloister  seal  on  it,  took  his  abbot's  staff  made 
of  the  wood  of  an  apple-tree  adorned  with  a  richly 
carved  handle  of  ebony,  and  then  descended  into 
the  courtyard. 

"Can't  you  hasten?"  called  out  one  of  the  party 
outside.  Then  the  Abbot  commanded  the  door- 
keeper to  ask  them  what  they  demanded.  Ro- 
meias  obeyed. 

A  bugle  now  sounded  and  the  chamberlain 
Spazzo,  in  the  capacity  of  herald,  rode  up  close  to 
the  gate,  and  called  out  loudly: 

"The  Duchess  and  reigning  sovereign  of  Suabia 
sends  her  greeting  to  St.  Gallus.  Let  the  gates  be 
opened  to  receive  her." 

The  Abbot  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  then  climbed  up 
to  Romeias's  watch-tower  and,  leaning  on  his  staff, 
gave  his  blessing  to  those  standing  outside,  and 
spoke  thus: 

"In  the  name  of  St.  Gallus,  the  most  unworthy 

31 


Ekkehard 

of  his  followers  returns  his  thanks  for  the  gracious 
greeting.  But  his  monastery  is  no  Noah's  ark 
into  which  every  species  of  living  thing,  pure  and 
impure,  male  and  female,  may  enter.  Therefore, 
although  my  heart  is  filled  with  regret,  to  sanc- 
tion your  entrance  is  an  impossibility.  On  the  last 
day  of  judgment,  the  abbot  is  held  responsible 
for  the  souls  of  those  entrusted  to  him.  The  pres- 
ence of  a  woman,  although  the  noblest  in  the  land, 
and  the  frivolous  speech  of  the  children  of  this 
world,  would  be  too  great  a  temptation  for  those 
who  are  bound  to  strive  first  after  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven  and  its  righteousness.  Do  not  trouble  the 
conscience  of  the  shepherd  who  anxiously  watches 
over  his  flock.  The  canonical  laws  bar  the  gate. 
The  gracious  Duchess  will  find  at  Trojen  or  Ror- 
shach  a  house  belonging  to  the  monastery  at  her 
entire  disposal." 

Dame  Hadwig,  who  had  been  sitting  on  horse- 
back impatiently  enough  hitherto,  now  struck  her 
white  palfrey  with  her  riding-whip,  and  reining 
it  so  as  to  make  it  rear  and  step  backward,  called 
out  laughingly: 

"Spare  yourself  all  your  fine  words,  cousin 
Cralo,  for  I  will  see  the  cloister."  ! 

In  doleful  accents,  the  Abbot  began :  "Woe  unto 
him  by  whom  offense  cometh.  It  were  better  for 
him   .    .    ."  ! 

But  his  warning  speech  did  not  come  to  an  end; 

32      ■  . 


Ekkehard 

for  Dame  Hadwig,  entirely  changing  the  tone  of 
her  voice,  sharply  said:  "Sir  Abbot,  the  Duchess 
of  Suabia  must  see  the  monastery." 

Then  the  much  afflicted  man  perceived  that 
further  contradiction  could  scarcely  be  offered 
without  damaging  the  future  prospects  of  the 
monastery.  Yet  his  conscience  still  urged  him 
to  opposition. 

Whenever  a  person  is  in  a  doubtful  position, 
and  is  uncertain  how  to  act,  it  is  a  great  comfort 
to  the  vacillating  mind  to  ask  the  advice  of  others ; 
for  that  expedient  lessens  the  responsibility,  and  is 
a  solid  support  to  fall  back  upon. 

Therefore  Sir  Cralo  now  called  down:  "As 
you  insist  so  peremptorily,  I  must  put  the  case  first 
before  the  assembled  brotherhood.  Until  then, 
pray  have  patience." 

He  walked  back  through  the  courtyard,  in- 
wardly wishing  that  a  second  great  flood  might 
come,  and  destroy  the  highway  on  which  such  un- 
welcome guests  had  come.  His  limping  gait  was 
hurried  and  excited,  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  since  the  chronicler  reports  of  him  that  he  had 
fluttered  up  and  down  the  cloister-walk  at  that 
critical  moment  like  a  swallow  before  a  thunder- 
storm. 

Five  times  the  little  bell  of  St.  Othmar's  chapel 
near  the  great  church  rang  out  now;  calling  the 
brothers  to  the  reading-room.    The  solitary  cross- 

33      - 


Ekkehard 

passages  filled  quickly  with  cowl-bearing  figures ; 
all  going  toward  the  place  of  assembly,  which,  op- 
posite the  hexagonal  main  building,  was  a  simple 
gray  hall,  under  the  peristyle  of  which  a  graceful 
fountain  shed  its  waters  into  a  metal  basin. 

On  a  raised  brick  floor  stood  the  abbot's  marble 
chair,  adorned  with  two  roughly  carved  lions' 
heads.  With  a  very  pleasurable  sensation  the  eye, 
from  under  these  dark  arches  and  pillars,  looked 
out  on  the  greenness  of  the  little  garden  in  the  in- 
ner court.  Roses  and  hollyhocks  flourished  and 
bloomed  in  it;  for  kind  nature  even  smiles  on  those 
who  have  turned  their  backs  on  her. 

The  white  habits  and  dark-colored  mantles  con- 
trasted well  with  the  gray  stone  walls,  as  one  after 
the  other  entered  noiselessly.  A  hasty  bend  of  the 
head  was  the  mutual  greeting.  Thus  they  stood  in 
silent  expectation,  while  the  morning  sun  came 
slanting  in  through  the  narrow  windows,  lighting 
up  their  different  faces.  I 

They  were  tried  men — a  holy  senate,  well  pleas- 
ing to  God's  sight.  I 

He  with  the  shrunk  figure  and  sharp-featured 
pale  face,  bearing  the  traces  of  much  fasting  and 
many  night  vigils,  was  Notker  the  stutterer.  A 
melancholy  smile  played  about  his  lips.  The  long 
practise  of  asceticism  had  removed  his  spirit  from 
the  present.  In  former  times  he  had  composed 
very  beautiful  melodies;  but  now  he  had  taken  a 

34 


Ekkehard 

more  gloomy  tendency  and  at  night  was  constantly 
challenging  demons  to  fight  with  him.  In  the 
crypt  of  the  holy  Gallus  he  had  lately  encountered 
the  devil  himself  and  beaten  him  so  heartily  that 
the  latter  hid  himself  in  a  corner,  dismally  howl- 
ing. Envious  tongues  said  that  Notker's  melan- 
choly song  of  ^^media  vitaf^  had  also  a  dark  origin; 
as  the  Evil  One  had  revealed  it  to  him  in  lieu  of 
ransom,  when  he  lay  ignominiously  conquered,  on 
the  ground,  under  Notker's  strong  foot.  Close  to 
him  there  smiled  a  right  honest  and  good-natured 
face,  framed  in  by  an  iron-gray  beard.  That  was 
the  mighty  Tutilo,  who  loved  best  to  sit  before  the 
turning-lathe,  and  carve  exquisitely  fine  images  of 
ivory.  Some  proofs  of  his  skill  even  now  exist, 
such  as  the  diptychon  with  the  Virgin  Mary's  as- 
cension, and  the  bear  of  St.  Gallus.  But  when  his 
back  began  to  ache,  humming  an  old  song,  he 
would  leave  his  work,  to  go  wolf -hunting,  or  to 
engage  in  an  honest  boxing-match,  by  way  of  rec- 
reation; for  he  preferred  fighting  with  wicked 
men  to  wrestling  with  midnight  ghosts,  and  often 
said  to  his  friend  Notker :  "He  who  like  myself  has 
imprinted  his  mark  on  many  a  Christian  as  well  as 
heathen  back,  can  well  afford  to  do  without  de- 
mons." Then  came  Ratpert,  the  long-tried  teacher 
of  the  school;  who  left  his  historical  books  most 
unwillingly  whenever  the  little  bell  called  him  to 
an  assembly.    He  carried  his  head  somewhat  high, 

35 


Ekkehard 

yet  he  and  the  others,  though  their  characters  dif- 
fered so  much,  were  one  heart  and  one  soul:  a 
three-leafed  cloister  shamrock.  Being  one  of  the 
last  who  entered  the  hall,  he  had  to  stand  near  his 
old  antagonist,  the  evil  Sindolt;  this  man,  pretend- 
ing not  to  see  him,  whispered  something  to  his 
neighbor,  a  little  man  with  a  face  like  a  shrew- 
mouse,  who,  puckering  up  his  lips,  tried  hard  not 
to  smile;  for  the  whispered  remark  had  been:  that 
in  the  large  dictionary  by  Bishop  Salomon,  beside 
the  words  ^Wabulista  signifies  some  one  who  can 
not  help  disputing  about  everything  in  the  world" 
some  unknown  hand  had  added,  "like  Ratpert,  cub 
great  thinker." 

Now  in  the  background  there  towered  above  the 
rest  the  tall  figure  of  Sintram  the  famous  callig- 
raphist;  whose  letters  were  then  the  wonder  of 
the  whole  cisalpine  world,  but  the  greatest  of  St. 
Gallus's  disciples,  with  regard  to  length  of  body, 
were  the  Scotchmen,  who  had  taken  their  stand 
close  to  the  entrance. 

Fortegian  and  Failan,  Dubslan  and  Brendan, 
and  so  on,  inseparable  compatriots  secretly  grum- 
bling over  what  they  considered  the  neglect  shown 
them.  The  sandy-haired  Dubduin  was  also  among 
them,  who,  in  spite  of  the  heavy  iron  penitential 
chain  which  he  wore,  had  not  been  elected  prior. 
As  a  punishment  for  the  biting  satirical  verses, 
which  he  had  composed  on  his  German  brothers, 

36 


Ekkehard 

he  had  been  sentenced  to  water  the  dead  peach-tree 
in  the  garden  for  three  years. 

Notker,  the  physician,  had  also  joined  the  assem- 
bly. He  had  but  lately  administered  the  wondrous 
remedy  for  the  Abbot's  lame  foot;  an  ointment 
made  of  fish-brain,  wrapped  up  in  the  fresh  skin 
of  a  wolf,  the  warmth  of  which  was  to  stretch  out 
the  contracted  sinews.  His  nickname  was  Pepper- 
corn, on  account  of  the  strictness  with  which  he 
maintained  the  monastic  discipline.  And  Wolo, 
who  could  not  bear  to  look  at  a  woman  or  a  ripe 
apple,  was  there,  and  also  Engelbert,  the  founder 
of  the  collection  of  wild  beasts,  and  Gerhard  the 
preacher,  and  Folkard  the  painter.  Who  could 
name  them  all,  the  excellent  masters,  whose  names, 
when  mentioned,  called  up  in  the  next  generation 
of  monks  feelings  of  melancholy  and  regret,  as  they 
confessed,  that  such  men  were  becoming  scarcer 
every  day? 

When  all  were  assembled,  the  Abbot  mounted 
his  chair,  and  the  consultation  began  forthwith. 
The  case,  however,  proved  to  be  a  very  difficult 
one. 

Ratpert  spoke  first,  and  demonstrated  from  his- 
tory in  what  way  the  Emperor  Charlemagne  had 
once  been  enabled  to  enter  the  monastery.  "In  that 
instance,"  he  said,  "it  was  presumed  that  he  was  a 
member  of  the  order,  as  long  as  he  was  within  our 
precincts,  and  all  pretended  not  to  know  who  he 

37 


Ekkehard 

was.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  of  imperial  dignity, 
or  deeds  of  war,  or  humble  homage.  He  walked 
about  among  us  like  any  other  monk,  and  that  he 
was  not  offended  thereby,  the  letter  of  protection, 
which  he  threw  over  the  wall,  when  departing,  well 
proved." 

But  in  this  way,  the  great  difficulty — the  person 
asking  for  admittance  being  a  woman — could  not 
be  got  rid  of.  The  stricter  ones  among  the  brother- 
hood grumbled,  and  Notker,  the  Peppercorn,  said: 
"She  is  the  widow  of  that  destroyer  of  countries, 
and  ravager  of  monasteries,  who  once  carried  ofl 
our  most  precious  chalice  as  a  war  contribution, 
saying  the  derisive  words:  'God  neither  eats  nor 
drinks,  so  what  can  he  do  with  golden  vessels?'  I 
warn  you  not  to  unbar  the  gate."  This  advice, 
however,  did  not  quite  suit  the  Abbot,  as  he  wished 
to  find  a  compromise.  The  debate  became  very 
stormy,  one  saying  this,  the  other  that.  Brother 
Wolo,  on  hearing  that  the  discussion  was  about  a 
woman,  softly  slunk  out,  and  locked  himself  .up  in 
his  cell. 

At  last  one  of  the  brothers  rose  and  requested  to 
be  heard. 

"Speak,  Brother  Ekkehard!"  called  out  the  Ab- 
bot, and  the  noisy  tumult  was  hushed,  for  all  liked 
to  hear  Ekkehard  speak.  He  was  still  young  in 
years,  of  a  very  handsome  figure,  and  he  captivated 
everybody  who  looked  at  him  by  his  graceful  mien 

38  ! 


Ekkehard 

and  pleasing  expression.  Besides  this  he  was  both 
wise  and  eloquent,  an  excellent  counselor  and  a 
most  learned  scholar.  At  the  cloister-school  he 
taught  Virgil,  and  though  the  rule  prescribed  that 
none  but  a  wise  and  hoary  man,  whose  age  would 
guard  him  from  the  abuse  of  his  office,  and  who  by 
his  experience  would  be  a  fit  counselor  for  all, 
should  be  made  custodian,  yet  the  brothers  had 
agreed  that  Ekkehard  united  in  himself  all  the 
necessary  requirements,  and  consequently  had  en- 
trusted him  with  that  office. 

A  scarcely  perceptible  smile  had  played  around 
his  lips,  while  the  others  were  disputing.  He  now 
raised  his  voice  and  spoke  thus :  "The  Duchess  of 
Suabia  is  the  monastery's  patron,  and  in  such  ca- 
pacity is  equal  to  a  man,  and  as  our  monastic  rules 
strictly  forbid  that  a  woman's  foot  shall  touch 
the  cloister-threshold,  she  may  easily  be  carried 
over." 

Upon  this  the  faces  of  the  old  men  brightened 
up,  as  if  a  great  load  had  been  taken  off  their 
minds.  A  murmur  of  approbation  ran  through  the 
assembly,  and  the  Abbot  likewise  was  not  insensible 
to  the  wise  counsel. 

"Verily,  the  Lord  often  reveals  himself,  even 
unto  a  younger  brother!  Brother  Ekkehard,  you 
are  guileless  like  the  dove,  and  prudent  like  the 
serpent.  So  you  shall  carry  out  your  own  advice. 
I  give  you  herewith  the  necessar)^  dispensation." 

39 


Ekkehard 

A  deep  blush  overspread  Ekkehard^s  features,  but 
he  quietly  bowed  his  head  in  sign  of  obedience. 

"And  what  about  the  female  attendants  of  the 
Duchess?"  asked  the  Abbot.  But  here  the  assembly 
unanimously  decided  that  even  the  most  liberal  in- 
terpretation of  the  monastic  laws  could  not  grant 
them  admittance.  The  evil  Sindolt  proposed  that 
they  should  meanwhile  pay  a  visit  to  the  recluses 
on  Erin  hill,  because  when  the  monastery  of  St. 
Gallus  was  afflicted  by  a  visitation,  it  was  but  fair 
that  the  pious  Wiborad  should  bear  her  share  of  it. 
After  havi.  g  held  a  whispering  consultation  with 
Ceroid,  the  steward,  about  the  supper,  the  Abbot 
descended  from  his  high  chair,  and,  accompanied 
by  the  brotherhood,  went  out  to  meet  his  guests. 
These  had  meanwhile  ridden  three  times  round  the 
cloister-walls,  banishing  the  tedium  of  waiting  by 
merry  jests  and  laughter.  The  air  of  ^^Justus  Ger- 
minavit,^^  the  monotonous  hymn  in  praise  of  St. 
Benedict,  was  struck  up  by  the  monks,  who  were 
now  heard  approaching.  The  heavy  gate  opened, 
creaking  on  its  hinges,  and  out  came  the  Abbot  at 
the  head  of  the  procession  of  friars,  who  walking, 
two  and  two  together,  chanted  the  hymn  just  men- 
tioned. 

Then  the  Abbot  gave  a  sign  to  stop  the  singing. 

"How  do  you  do,  cousin  Cralo?"  flippantly  cried 
the  Duchess  from  her  saddle.    "I  have  not  seen  you 

for  an  age!    Do  you  still  limp?" 

40 


Ekkehard 

Cralo,  however,  replied  with  dignity:  "It  is  bet- 
ter that  the  shepherd  should  limp  than  the  flock. 
Be  pleased  to  hear  the  monastery's  decree."  And 
forthwith  he  communicated  the  condition  on  which 
she  was  to  enter. 

Then  Dame  Hadwig  replied  smilingly:  "Dur- 
ing all  the  time  that  I  have  wielded  the  sceptre  in 
Suabia,  such  a  proposition  has  never  been  made  to 
me.  But  the  laws  of  your  order  shall  be  respected. 
Which  of  the  brothers  have  you  chosen  to  carry  the 
Sovereign  over  the  threshold?"  But  on  casting  her 
sparkling  eyes  over  the  ranks  of  the  spiritual  cham- 
pions and  beholding  the  dark  fanatical  face  of 
Notker,  the  stutterer,  she  whispered  to  Praxedis: 
"Maybe  we  shall  turn  back  at  once." 

"There  he  stands,"  said  the  Abbot. 

Dame  Hadwig  following  with  her  eyes  the  di- 
rection which  the  Abbot's  forefinger  indicated, 
then  beheld  Ekkehard,  and  it  was  a  long  gaze 
which  she  cast  on  his  tall,  handsome  figure  and 
noble  countenance,  glowing  with  youth  and  intel- 
lect. "We  shall  not  turn  back"  was  implied  by  a 
significant  nod  to  Praxedis,  and  before  the  short- 
necked  chamberlain,  who  in  most  cases  was  willing 
enough  but  was  generally  too  slow,  had  dis- 
mounted, and  approached  her  palfrey,  she. had 
gracefully  alighted,  and,  approaching  the  custo- 
dian, she  said :    "Now  then,  perform  your  office." 

Ekkehard  had  been  trying  meanwhile  to  com- 

---- ■,41    .    : 


Ekkehard 

pose  an  address,  which  in  faultless  Latin  was  in- 
tended to  justify  the  strange  liberty  he  was  about 
to  take,  but  when  she  stood  before  him,  proud  and 
commanding,  his  voice  failed  him,  and  the  speech 
remained  where  it  had  been  conceived — in  his 
thoughts.  Otherwise,  however,  he  had  not  lost  his 
courage,  and  so  he  lifted  up  his  fair  burden  with 
his  strong  arms,  who,  putting  her  right  arm  round 
his  shoulder,  seemed  not  displeased  with  her  novel 
position. 

Cheerfully  he  thus  stepped  over  the  threshold 
which  no  woman's  foot  was  allowed  to  touch;  the 
Abbot  walking  by  his  side,  and  the  chamberlain 
and  vassals  following.  The  serving  ministrants 
swung  their  censers  gaily  into  the  air,  and  the 
monks,  marching  behind  in  a  double  file  as  before, 
sung  the  last  verses  of  the  unfinished  hymn. 

It  was  a  wonderful  spectacle,  such  as  never  oc- 
curred, either  before  or  after  in  the  monastery's 
history,  and  by  those  prone  to  useless  moralizing 
many  a  wise  observation  might  be  made,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  monk's  carrying  the  Duchess,  on  the 
relation  of  church  and  state  in  those  times,  and  the 
changes  which  have  occurred  since;  but  these  re- 
flections we  leave  each  one  to  make  for  himself. 
Natural  philosophers  affirm  that  at  the  meeting  of 
animate  objects  invisible  powers  begin  to  act, 
streaming  forth  and  passing  from  one  to  the  other, 
thus  creating  strange  affinities.      This  story  was 

42 


Ekkehard 

proved  true  at  least  with  regard  to  the  Duchess  and 
her  bearer,  for  while  she  was  being  rocked  in  his 
arms,  she  thought  inwardly:  "Indeed,  never  the 
hood  of  St.  Benedict  has  covered  a  more  graceful 
head  than  this  one,"  and  when  Ekkehard  put  down 
his  burden  with  shy  deference  in  the  cool  cross- 
passage,  he  was  struck  by  the  thought,  that  the  dis- 
tance from  the  gate  had  never  appeared  so  short 
to  him  before. 

''I  suppose  that  you  found  me  very  heavy?"  said 
the  Duchess. 

"My  liege  lady,  you  may  boldly  say  of  yourself 
as  it  has  been  written,  *My  yoke  is  easy  and  my 
burden  is  light,' "  was  the  reply. 

"I  should  not  have  thought  that  you  would  turn 
the  words  of  Scripture  into  a  flattering  speech. 
What  is  your  name?" 

"They  call  me  Ekkehard." 

"Ekkehard,  I  thank  you,"  said  the  Duchess  with 
a  graceful  wave  of  her  hand. 

He  stepped  back  to  an  oriel  window  in  the  cross- 
passage,  and  looked  out  into  the  little  garden.  Was 
it  mere  chance  that  the  image  of  St.  Christopher 
now  rose  before  his  inward  eye?  He  also  con- 
sidered his  burden  a  light  one  when  he  began  to 
carry  the  child-stranger  through  the  water,  on  his 
strong  shoulder;  but  heavier  and  heavier  the  bur- 
den weighed  on  his  back,  and  pressing  him  down- 
ward into  the  roaring  flood,  deep,  and  deeper  still ; 

43 


Ekkehard 

so  that  his  courage  began  to  fail  him,  and  was  well- 
nigh  turned  into  despair.  ... 

The  Abbot  had  ordered  a  magnificent  jug  to  be 
brought,  and,  taking  it  in  his  hand,  he  went  himself 
to  the  well,  filled  it,  and,  presenting  it  to  the  Duch- 
ess, said:  *'It  is  the  duty  of  the  Abbot  to  bring 
water  to  strangers  for  them  to  wash  their  hands,  as 
well  as  their  feet  and  ..." 

"We  thank  you,  but  we  do  not  want  it,"  said  the 
Duchess,  interrupting  him,  in  her  most  decided 
accents. 

Meanwhile  two  of  the  brothers  had  carried 
down  a  box,  which  now  stood  open  in  the  passage. 
Out  of  this  the  Abbot  drew  a  monk's  habit,  quite 
new,  and  said:  "Thus  I  ordain  our  monastery's 
mighty  patron  a  member  of  our  brotherhood,  and 
adorn  him  with  the  holy  garb  of  our  order."         J 

Dame  Hadwig  complied,  lightly  bending  her 
knee,  on  receiving  the  cowl  from  his  hands,  and 
then  she  put  on  the  garment,  which  became  her 
well,  being  ample,  and  falling  in  rich  folds;  for 
the  rule  says :  ' 

"The  abbot  is  to  keep  a  strict  watch  that  the 
garments  be  not  too  scanty,  but  well  fitted  to  their 
wearers." 

The  beautiful  rosy  countenance  looked  lovely  in 
the  brown  hood. 

"And  you  must  likewise  follow  the  example  of 
your  mistress,"  said  the  Abbot  to  the  retinue  of  the 

44 


Ekkehard 

Duchess,  upon  which  the  evil  Sindolt  gleefully  as- 
sisted Master  Spazzo  to  don  the  garb. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  whispered  into  his  ear,  "what 
this  garment  obliges  you  to?  In  putting  it  on,  you 
swear  to  renounce  the  evil  lusts  of  the  world  and 
the  flesh,  and  in  future  to  lead  a  sober,  self-deny- 
ing, and  chaste  life." 

Master  Spazzo,  who  had  already  put  his  right 
arm  into  the  ample  gown,  pulled  it  back  hastily  and 
exclaimed  with  terror:  "I  protest  against  this;" 
but  when  Sindolt  struck  up  a  loud  guffaw,  he  per- 
ceived that  things  were  not  quite  so  serious  and 
said:  "Brother,  you  are  a  wag." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  vassals  were  also  adorned 
with  the  garb  of  the  holy  order,  but  the  beards  of 
some  of  the  newly  created  monks  descended  to  the 
girdle,  in  opposition  to  the  rules,  and  also  they 
were  not  quite  canonical  as  to  the  modest  casting 
down  of  their  eyes. 

The  Abbot  led  his  guests  into  the  church. 


45 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER   III 

WIBORAD  THE  RECLUSE 


Least  of  all  delighted  by  the  arrival  of  the  un- 
expected guests,  was  Romeias  the  gatekeeper.  He 
had  a  presentiment  what  part  of  the  trouble  was 
likely  to  fall  to  his  share,  but  he  did  not  yet  know 
the  whole  of  it.  While  the  Abbot  received  the 
Duchess,  Ceroid,  the  steward,  came  up  to  him 
and  said: 

**Romeias,  prepare  to  go  on  an  errand.  You  are 
to  tell  the  people  on  the  different  farms,  to  send  in 
the  fowls  that  are  due  before  evening,  as  they  will 
be  wanted  at  the  feast,  and  besides  you  are  to  pro- 
cure as  much  game  as  possible."  i 

This  order  pleased  Romeias  well.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  he  had  been  to  ask  for  fowls,  and 
yeomen  and  farmers  held  him  in  great  respect,  as 
he  had  a  commanding  manner  of  speaking.  Hunt- 
ing was  at  all  times  the  delight  of  his  heart,  and  so 
Romeias  took  his  spear,  hung  the  cross-bow  over 
his  shoulder,  and  was  just  going  to  call  out  a  pack 
of  hounds,  when  Ceroid  pulled  his  sleeve  and  said: 
"Romeias,  one  thing  more!     You  are  to  accom- 

46 


Ekkehard 

pany  the  Duchess's  waiting-women,  who  have  been 
forbidden  to  enter  the  monastery,  to  the  Schwarza 
Valley,  and  present  them  to  the  pious  Wiborad, 
who  is  to  entertain  them  as  pleasantly  as  may  be, 
until  the  evening.  And  you  are  to  be  very  civil, 
Romeias,  and  I  tell  you  there  is  a  Greek  maid 
among  them  with  the  darkest  eyes  imaginable.  .  . " 

On  hearing  this,  a  deep  frown  of  displeasure 
darkened  Romeias's  forehead,  and,  vehemently 
thrusting  his  spear  to  the  ground,  he  exclaimed: 
"I  am  to  accompany  womenfolk?  That  is  none  of 
the  business  of  the  gatekeeper  of  St.  Gallus's 
monastery — "  but  Ceroid  with  a  significant  nod 
toward  him,  continued :  "Well,  Romeias,  you  must 
try  to  do  your  best;  and  have  you  never  heard  that 
watchmen,  who  have  faithfully  performed  their 
missions,  have  found  an  ample  jug  of  wine  in  their 
room  of  an  evening — eh,  Romeias?" 

The  discontented  face  brightened  up  consider- 
ably, and  so  he  went  down  to  let  out  the  hounds. 
The  bloodhound  and  the  beagle  jumped  up  gaily, 
and  the  little  beaver-puppy  also  set  up  a  joyous 
bark,  hoping  to  be  taken  out  likewise ;  but  with  a 
contemptuous  kick  it  was  sent  back,  for  the  hunter 
had  nothing  to  do  with  fish-ponds  and  their  inhab- 
itants. Surrounded  by  his  noisy  pack  of  hounds, 
Romeias  strode  out  of  the  gate. 

Praxedis  and  the  other  waiting-women  of  the 
Duchess  had  dismounted  from  their  horses  and 

47 


Ekkehard  | 

seated  themselves  on  a  grassy  slope,  chatting  away 
about  monks  and  cowls  and  beards,  as  well  as  about 
the  strange  caprices  of  their  mistress,  when  Ro- 
meias  suddenly  appeared  before  them  and  said: 
"Come  on!"  i 

Praxedis  looked  at  the  rough  sportsman,  and 
not  quite  knowing  what  to  make  of  him,  pertly 
said:  "Where  to,  my  good  friend?"  I 

Romeias,  however,  merely  lifted  his  spear,  and, 
pointing  with  it  to  a  neighboring  hill  behind  the 
woods,  held  his  tongue. 

Then  Praxedis  called  out:  "Is  speech  such  a 
rare  article  in  St.  Gall,  that  you  do  not  answer 
properly  when  questioned?" 

The  other  maids  giggled,  upon  which  Romeias 
said  solemnly:  "May  you  all  be  swallowed  up  by 
an  earthquake,  seven  fathoms  deep." 

"We  are  very  much  obliged  to  you,  good  friend," 
was  Praxedis's  reply,  and  the  necessary  prelim- 
inaries for  a  conversation  being  thus  made,  Ro- 
meias informed  them  of  the  commission  he  had 
received,  and  the  women  followed  him  willingly 
enough.  ! 

After  some  time  the  gatekeeper  found  out  that 
it  was  not  the  hardest  work  to  accompany  such 
guests,  and  when  the  Greek  maid  desired  to  know 
something  about  his  business  and  sport,  his  tongue 
got  wonderfully  loosened,  and  he  even  related  his 
great  adventure  with  the  terrible  boar,  into  whose 

48 


Ekkehard 

side  he  had  thrown  his  spear  and  yet  had  not  been 
able  to  kill  it,  for  one  of  its  feet  would  have  loaded 
a  cart,  and  its  hair  stood  up  as  high  as  a  pine-tree, 
and  its  teeth  were  twelve  feet  long  at  the  least. 
After  this  he  grew  still  more  civil,  for  when  the 
Greek  once  stopped  to  listen  to  the  warbling  of  a 
thrush,  he  waited  also  patiently  enough,  though  a 
singing-bird  was  too  miserable  a  piece  of  game  for 
him  to  give  much  heed  to;  and  when  Praxedis  bent 
down  for  a  pretty  brass-beetle,  crawling  about  in 
the  moss,  Romeias  politely  tried  to  push  it  toward 
her,  with  his  heavy  boot,  and,  when  in  doing  so 
he  crushed  it  instead,  this  was  certainly  not  his 
intention. 

They  climbed  up  a  wild,  steep  wood-path,  be- 
side which  the  Schwarza  brook  flowed  over  jagged 
rocks.  On  that  slope  the  holy  Gallus  had  once 
fallen  into  some  thorny  bushes,  and  had  said  to  his 
companion,  who  wanted  to  lift  him  up :  "Here  let 
me  lie,  for  here  shall  be  my  resting-place  and  my 
abode  forever." 

They  had  not  walked  far  before  they  came  to  a 
clearing  in  the  fir-wood,  where  leaning  against  a 
sheltering  rock  stood  a  simple  chapel  in  the  shape 
of  a  cross.  Close  to  it  a  square  little  stone  hut  was 
built,  in  which  but  one  tiny  window  with  a  wooden 
shutter  was  to  be  seen.  Opposite  there  stood  an- 
other hut  exactly  like  it,  having  also  but  one  little 
window. 

-■49     ■;■ 

Vol.  3  (A)-3 


Ekkehard 

It  was  customary  at  that  time  for  those  who  in- 
clined to  the  monastic  life,  and  who,  as  St.  Benedict 
expressed  himself,  felt  strong  enough  to  fight  the 
Devil  without  the  assistance  of  pious  companions, 
to  immure  themselves  in  that  way.  They  were 
called  ^Weclausi'* — that  is,  "walled  in" — and  their 
usefulness  and  aim  in  life  may  well  be  compared 
to  that  of  the  pillar-saints  in  Egypt.  The  sharp 
winds  of  winter,  and  frequent  falls  of  snow  ren- 
dered their  movement  in  the  open  air  somewhat 
difficult,  but  their  longing  for  an  anchorite's  life 
was  nevertheless  quite  strong. 

Within  those  four  walls  on  the  Hill  of  Erin  there 
lived  Sister  Wiborad,  a  far-famed  recluse  of  her 
time.  She  came  from  Klingnau  in  Aargau,  and 
had  been  a  proud  and  prudish  virgin,  versed  in 
many  an  art,  besides  being  able  to  recite  all  the 
Psalms  in  the  Latin  tongue,  which  she  had  learned 
from  her  brother  Hitto.  She  was  not,  however, 
quite  opposed  to  the  idea  of  sweetening  the  life  of 
some  man  or  other,  but  the  flower  of  the  youth  at 
Aargau  did  not  find  grace  in  her  eyes;  and  one 
day  she  set  out  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  There 
in  the  holy  city  her  restless  mind  must  have  under- 
gone some  great  shock,  but  none  of  her  contem- 
poraries ever  knew  in  what  way.  For  three  entire 
days  her  brother  Hitto  ran  up  and  down  the 
Forum,  through  the  halls  of  the  Coliseum,  and 
from  the  triumphal  arch  of  Constantine  to  the 

50  I 


Ekkehard 

four-faced  Janus  near  the  Tiber,  seeking  for  his 
sister  and  not  finding  her,  and  on  the  morning  of 
the  fourth  day,  she  walked  in  by  the  Salarian  gate, 
carrying  her  head  very  high,  and  while  her  eyes 
gleamed  strangely  she  said  that  things  would  not 
be  right  in  the  world  until  the  due  amount  of 
veneration  was  shown  unto  St.  Martin. 

After  returning  to  her  home,  she  bequeathed  all 
her  wealth  to  the  bishop's  church  at  Constance, 
on  condition  that  a  great  festival  in  honor  of  St. 
Martin  should  be  held  every  year  on  the  nth  of 
November.  Then  she  went  to  live  in  a  small  house 
where  the  holy  Zilia  had  lived  before,  and  there 
led  a  hermit's  life,  until  she  grew  dissatisfied,  and 
betook  herself  to  the  valley  of  St.  Gallus.  The 
bishop  himself  accompanied  her,  put  the  black 
veil  on  her  head  with  his  own  hands,  and  after 
leading  her  into  the  cell,  he  laid  the  first  stone 
with  which  the  entrance  was  closed  up.  Then  he 
pronounced  his  blessing,  imprinting  his  seal  four 
times  into  the  lead  which  joined  the  stones  to- 
gether, while  the  monks  who  had  accompanied 
him  chanted  sad,  solemn  strains,  as  if  some  one  was 
being  buried. 

The  people  thereabout  held  the  recluse  in  great 
honor.  They  called  her  a  "hard-forged  Saint," 
and  on  many  a  Sunday  they  flocked  to  the  meadow 
before  her  cell,  and  listened  to  Wiborad,  who  stood 
preaching  at  her  window,  and  several  women  went 


Ekkehard 

to  live  in  her  neighborhood,  to  be  instructed  in  all 
the  virtues. 

"We  have  arrived  at  the  place  of  our  destina- 
tion," said  Romeias,  upon  which  Praxedis  and  her 
companions  looked  about  in  every  direction,  but 
not  a  human  being  was  to  be  seen.  Only  some  be- 
lated butterflies  and  beetles  buzzed  drowsily  in 
the  sunshine  and  the  cricket  chirped  merrily,  hid- 
den in  the  grass.  The  shutter  at  Wiborad's  win- 
dow was  almost  closed,  so  that  but  a  scanty  ray  of 
sunshine  could  penetrate;  and  from  within  came 
the  monotonous  hollow  tones  of  a  person  chanting 
psalms,  with  a  somewhat  nasal  sound,  breaking  the 
silence  without.  Romeias  knocked  against  the 
shutter  with  his  spear,  but  this  had  no  effect  on  the 
psalm-chanting  individual  inside.  Then  the  gate- 
keeper said :  "We  must  try  some  other  way  of  rous- 
ing her  attention." 

Romeias  was  rather  a  rough  sort  of  man,  or  he 
would  not  have  behaved  as  he  did. 

He  began  singing  a  song,  such  as  he  often  sang 
to  amuse  the  cloister  pupils,  when  they  managed 
to  steal  off  into  his  watch-tower,  there  to  plague 
him  by  pulling  his  beard  or  by  making  all  sorts 
of  absurd  noises  on  his  big  horn.  It  was  one 
of  those  ditties  which  from  the  time  that  the  Ger- 
man tongue  was  first  spoken  have  been  sung  by  the 
thousand  on  hills  and  highroads,  under  hedges  and 
in  woody  dells,  and  the  wind  has  carried  them  on 

52 


Ekkehard 

and  spread  them  farther.    The  words  of  this  were 
as  follows : 

"I  know  an  oak-tree  fair  to  see. 
In  yonder  shady  grove ; 
There  bills  and  coos  the  livelong  day 
A  beautiful  wild  dove. 


ft 


t( 


I  know  a  rock  in  yonder  vale, 
Around  which  bats  are  flitting ; 
There,  old  and  hoary  in  her  nest, 
An  ugly  owl  is  sitting. 

The  wild  dove  is  my  heart's  delight, 
And  with  a  song  I  greet  it  ; 
The  arrow  keep  I  for  the  owl. 
To  kill  it  when  I  meet  it." 


This  song  had  about  the  same  effect  as  if  Ro- 
meias  had  thrown  a  heavy  stone  against  the  shut- 
ter. Instantly  there  appeared  at  the  little  window 
a  figure,  from  the  withered  and  scraggy  neck  of 
which  rose  a  ghastly  female  face,  the  mouth  assum- 
ing a  rather  hostile  position  toward  the  nose.  A 
dark  veil  hid  the  rest,  and  bending  out  of  the  little 
window  as  far  as  she  could,  she  cried  out  with 
ominously  gleaming  eyes:  "Art  thou  come  back, 
Satan?" 

Romeias  then  advanced  a  few  steps  and  said 
complacently:  "Nay,  the  Evil  One  does  not  know 

53 


Ekkehard 

such  fine  songs  as  Romeias,  the  monastery's  gate- 
keeper. Calm  yourself,  Sister  Wiborad,  I  bring 
you  some  dainty  damsels,  whom  the  Abbot  warmly 
recommends  to  your  kind  reception." 

"Take  yourselves  off,  ye  deceiving  phantoms!" 
screamed  the  recluse.  "I  know  the  snares  of  the 
Tempter.    Hence,  begone!" 

But  Praxedis  now  approached  the  window,  and, 
humbly  dropping  a  low  curtsy  to  the  old  hag,  ex- 
plained to  her  that  she  did  not  come  from  hell,  but 
from  the  Hohentwiel.  As  an  example  of  her  oc- 
casional deceitfulness,  the  Greek  maiden  added 
that  she  had  already  heard  so  much  of  the  great 
piety  of  the  far-famed  Sister  Wiborad  that  she 
had  availed  herself  of  the  first  opportunity  of  pay- 
ing her  a  visit,  though  the  fact  was  that  she  had 
before  that  day  never  heard  about  the  cell  and  its 
inhabitant. 

After  this  the  wrinkles  on  Wiborad's  forehead 
began  to  soften  a  little.  "Give  me  thy  hand,  stran- 
ger," said  she,  stretching  her  arm  out  of  the  win- 
dow, which,  as  the  sleeve  fell  back,  could  be  seen 
in  all  its  skinny  leanness. 

Praxedis  held  up  her  right  hand,  and  as  the 
recluse  touched  with  her  dry  fingers  the  soft  warm 
hand  with  its  throbbing  pulses,  she  became  slowly 
convinced  that  the  young  girl  was  a  being  of  flesh 
and  blood. 

Romeias,  on  perceiving  this  change  for  the  bet- 

54 


Ekkehard 

ter,  rolled  some  big  stones  under  the  window  of  the 
cell.  "In  two  hours  I  shall  be  back  to  fetch  you. 
God  bless  you,  virgins  all,"  he  said  aloud,  and  then 
added  in  a  whisper  to  the  Greek  maid,  "And  don't 
be  frightened  if  she  should  fall  into  one  of  her 
trances." 

Whistling  to  his  dogs  he  then  quickly  strode 
toward  the  wood.  The  first  thirty  steps  or  so  he 
got  on  without  any  impediment;  but  then  he  sud- 
denly stopped;  and  turning  first  his  shaggy  head 
round,  and  then  the  whole  body,  he  stood  leaning 
on  his  spear,  intently  gazing  at  the  spot  before  the 
cell,  as  if  he  had  lost  something  there.  Yet  he  had 
forgotten  nothing. 

Praxedis  smiled  and  kissed  her  hand  to  the 
rudest  of  all  gatekeepers.  Then  Romeias  quickly 
turned  round  again,  shouldered  his  spear,  dropped 
it,  took  it  up  again,  then  stumbled,  and  finally 
managed  to  complete  his  retreat,  after  which  he 
vanished  behind  the  moss-grown  stems. 

"Oh,  thou  child  of  the  world,  groping  in  dark- 
ness," scolded  the  recluse,  "what  meant  that  move- 
ment of  thy  hand?" 

"A  mere  jest,"  replied  Praxedis,  innocently. 

"A  downright  sin,"  cried  Wiborad  in  rough  ac- 
cents, so  that  Praxedis  started ;  and  then,  continu- 
ing with  her  preaching,  added:  "Oh,  the  Devil's 
works  and  delusions!  There  you  cast  your  eyes 
slyly  about  until  they  enter  a  man's  heart  like  light- 


Ekkehard 

ning,  and  kiss  your  hands  to  him  as  if  that  were 
nothing !  Is  it  naught  that  he  looks  back  who  ought 
to  be  looking  forward?  No  man  having  put  his 
hand  to  the  plow,  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the 
kingdom  of  God.  'A  jest?'  Oh,  give  me  hyssop 
to  take  away  your  sin,  and  snow  to  wash  you 
clean!" 

"I  did  not  think  of  that,"  admitted  Praxedis, 
deeply  blushing. 

"That  is  the  misery,  that  you  do  not  think  of 
so  many  things."  Then  looking  at  Praxedis  from 
head  to  foot,  she  continued :  "Neither  do  you  think 
that  wearing  a  bright  green  garment  and  all  sucfi 
flaring  colors  are  an  abomination  unto  those  who 
have  banished  all  worldly  thoughts;  and  that  thy 
girdle  is  tied  so  loosely  and  negligently  round  thy 
waist,  as  if  thou  wert  a  public  dancer.  Watch  and 
pray!" 

Leaving  the  window  for  a  few  moments,  the 
recluse  returned  presently,  and  held  out  a  coarsel]^ 
twisted  cord. 

"I  have  pity  on  thee,  poor  turtle-dove,"  she 
said.  "Tear  off  thy  silken  finery  and  receive  here- 
with the  girdle  of  self-denial  from  Wiborad's  own 
hand ;  and  let  it  be  a  warning  to  thee  to  have  done 
with  all  vain  talkings  and  doings.  And  when  thou 
f eelest  the  temptation  again  to  kiss  thy  hand  to  the 
gatekeeper  of  a  monastery,  turn  thy  head  eastward 
and  chant  the  psalm,  *0  Lord,  deliver  me  from 

56 


Ekkehard 

evil  I'  And  if  even  then  peace  will  not  come  to 
thee,  then  light  a  wax-candle  and  hold  thy  fore- 
finger over  the  flame,  and  thou  wilt  be  saved ;  for 
fire  alone  cures  fire." 

Praxedis  cast  down  her  eye. 

"Your  words  are  bitter,"  she  said. 

"Bitter!"  exclaimed  the  recluse.  "Praised  be 
the  Lord  that  my  lips  do  not  taste  of  sweets!  The 
mouth  of  saints  must  be  bitter.  When  Pachomius 
sat  in  the  desert,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  unto 
him,  took  the  leaves  from  a  laurel-tree,  and  writ- 
ing some  holy  words  of  prayer  thereon,  gave  them 
to  Pachomius  and  said :  'Swallow  these  leaves,  and 
though  they  will  be  as  bitter  as  gall  in  thy  mouth, 
they  will  make  thy  heart  overflow  with  true  wis- 
dom.' And  Pachomius  took  the  leaves  and  ate 
them,  and  from  that  moment  his  tongue  became 
bitter,  but  his  he^rt  was  filled  with  sweetness,  and 
he  praised  the  Lord." 

Praxedis  said  nothing,  and  there  ensued  a  silence 
which  was  not  interrupted  for  some  time.  The 
other  maids  of  the  Duchess  had  all  vanished,  for 
when  the  recluse  had  handed  out  her  girdle,  they 
nudged  each  other  and  then  quietly  glided  away. 
They  were  now  gathering  bunches  of  heather  and 
other  autumnal  flowers,  giggling  at  what  they  had 
witnessed. 

"Shall  we  also  put  on  such  a  belt?"  said  one  of 
them. 

17. 


Ekkehard 

■■  ■  ■  I 

"Yes,  when  the  sun  rises  black,"  replied  the 
other.  j 

Praxedis  had  put  the  cord  into  the  grass. 

"I  do  not  like  robbing  you  of  your  girdle,"  she 
now  said  shyly. 

"Oh,  what  simplicity!"  exclaimed  Wiborad. 
"The  girdle  that  we  wear  is  no  child's  play  like  the 
one  that  I  gave  thee.  The  girdle  of  Wiborad  is  an 
iron  hoop  with  blunted  spikes.  It  clinks  like  a 
chain  and  cuts  into  the  flesh.  Thou  wouldst  shud- 
der at  the  mere  sight  of  it."  ! 

Praxedis  gazed  toward  the  wood,  as  if  spying 
whether  Romeias  was  not  yet  to  be  seen.  The  re- 
cluse probably  noticed  that  her  guest  did  not  feel 
particularly  comfortable,  and  now  held  out  to  her 
a  board,  on  which  lay  about  half  a  dozen  of  red- 
dish-green crab-apples.  ' 

"Does  the  time  pass  slowly  forethee,  child  of  the 
world?"  she  said.  "There,  take  these,  if  words  of 
grace  do  not  satisfy  thee.  Cakes  and  sweetmeats 
have  I  none,  but  these  apples  are  fair  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord.  They  are  the  nourishment  of  the 
poor." 

The  Greek  maid  knew  what  politeness  required. 
But  they  were  crab-apples,  and  after  having  with 
an  effort  swallowed  half  of  one,  her  pretty  mouth 
looked  awry,  and  involuntarily  tears  started  into 
her  eyes.  I 

"How  dost  thou  like  them?"  cried  the  recluse. 

^8  ! 


Ekkehard 

Then  Praxedis  feigned  as  if  the  remaining  half 
fell  by  chance  from  her  hand.  "If  the  Creator 
had  made  all  apples  as  acid  as  these,"  she  said 
with  a  sour-sweet  smile,  "Eve  would  never  have 
eaten  of  the  apple." 

Wiborad  was  offended.  "  'Tis  well,"  said  she, 
"that  thou  dost  not  forget  the  story  of  Eve.  She 
had  the  same  tastes  as  thou,  and  therefore  sin  has 
come  into  the  world." 

The  Greek  maid  looked  up  at  the  sky,  but  not 
from  emotion.  A  solitary  hawk  flew  in  circles 
over  Wiborad's  hut.  "Oh,  that  I  could  fly  with 
thee,  away  to  the  Bodensee,"  she  thought.  Archly 
shaking  her  pretty  head,  she  then  inquired:  "What 
must  I  do  to  become  as  perfect  as  you  are?" 

"To  renounce  the  world  entirely,"  replied  Wi- 
borad, "is  a  grace  from  above  which  we  poor  mor- 
tals can  not  acquire  by  ourselves.  Fasting,  drink- 
ing of  pure  water,  castigating  the  flesh  and  reciting 
of  psalms — all  these  are  mere  preparations.  The 
most  important  thing  is  to  select  a  good  patron 
saint.  We  women  are  but  frail  creatures,  but  fer- 
vent prayer  brings  the  champions  of  God  to  our 
side  to  assist  us.  Imagine,  before  this  little  window 
there  he  often  stands  in  lonely  nights — he,  whom 
my  heart  has  elected,  the  valiant  St.  Martin,  and 
he  holds  out  his  lance  and  shield  to  protect  me 
from  the  raging  devils.  An  aureole  of  blue  flames 
crowns  his  head,  flashing  through  the  darkness  like 

59 


Ekkehard 

summer  lightning,  and  as  soon  as  he  appears  the 
demons  fly  away  shrieking.  And  when  the  battle 
is  over,  then  he  enters  into  friendly  communion 
with  me.  I  tell  him  all  that  weighs  on  my  poor 
heart;  all  the  grief  which  my  neighbors  cause  me, 
and  the  wrong  which  I  suffer  from  the  cloister- 
folk;  and  the  Saint  nods  to  me  and  shakes  his  curly 
head,  and  all  that  I  tell  him  he  carries  to  heaven 
and  repeats  it  to  his  friend  the  Archangel  Michael, 
who  keeps  watch  every  Monday  before  the  throne 
of  God  Almighty.  There  it  comes  before  the  right 
ear,  and  Wiborad,  the  last  of  the  least,  is  not  for- 
gotten. ..." 

"Then  I  shall  also  choose  St.  Martin  to  become 
my  patron  saint,"  exclaimed  Praxedis.  But  this 
had  not  been  the  intention  of  Wiborad's  praises. 
She  threw  a  contemptuous,  half-jealous  look  on 
the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  young  girl,  "The  Lord 
pardon  thee  thy  presumption!"  cried  she  with 
folded  hands.  "Dost  thou  believe  that  this  can  be 
done  with  flippant  word  and  smooth  face?.  In- 
deed! Many  long  years  have  I  striven  and  fasted 
until  my  face  became  wrinkled  and  furrowed, 
and  he  did  not  favor  me  even  with  one  single  look! 
He  is  a  high  and  mighty  Saint  and  a  valiant  sol- 
dier of  the  Lord,  who  only  looks  on  long-tried 
champions." 

"He  will  not  rudely  shut  his  ears  against  my 
prayers,"  exclaimed  Praxedis. 

60 


Ekkehard 

"But  thou  shalt  not  pray  to  him,"  cried  Wibo- 
rad  angrily.  "What  has  hp  to  do  with  thee?  For 
such  as  thou  art  there  are  other  patron  saints.  I 
will  name  thee  one.  Choose  thou  the  pious  Father 
Pachomius  for  thyself." 

"Him  I  don't  know,"  said  Praxedis. 

"Bad  enough,  and  it  is  high  time  for  you  to  make 
his  acquaintance.  He  was  a  venerable  hermit  who 
lived  in  the  Theban  desert,  nourishing  himself  with 
wild  roots  and  locusts.  He  was  so  pious  that  he 
heard  during  his  lifetime  the  harmony  of  the 
spheres  and  planets,  and  often  said :  *If  all  human 
beings  would  hear  what  has  blessed  my  ears,  they 
would  forsake  house  and  land;  and  he  who  had 
put  on  the  right  shoe  would  leave  the  left  one  be- 
hind and  hasten  thither.*  Now  in  the  town  of 
Alexandria  there  was  a  maid  whose  name  was 
Thai's,  and  nobody  could  tell  which  was  greater, 
her  beauty  or  her  frivolity.  Then  Pachomius  said 
unto  himself,  'Such  a  woman  is  a  plague  for  the 
whole  Egyptian  land ;'  and  after  cutting  his  beard 
and  anointing  himself  he  mounted  a  crocodile, 
which  by  prayer  he  had  made  subservient  to  him- 
self, and  on  its  scaly  back  was  carried  down  the 
Nile ;  and  then  he  went  to  Thais,  as  if  he  also  were 
an  admirer  of  hers.  His  big  stick,  which  was  a 
palm-tree,  he  had  taken  with  him,  and  he  managed 
to  shake  the  heart  of  the  sinner  so  as  to  make  her 
burn  her  silken  robes,  as  well  as  her  jewels,  and 

6i 


Ekkehard 

she  followed  Pachomius,  as  a  lamb  does  the  shep- 
herd. Then  he  shut  her  up  in  a  rocky  grave,  leav- 
ing only  a  tiny  window  in  it;  instructed  her  in 
prayer,  and  after  five  years  her  purification  was 
completed,  and  four  angels  carried  her  soul  up  to 
heaven." 

This  story  did  not  impress  Praxedis  very  favor- 
ably. 

'The  old  hermit  with  his  rough  beard  and  bitter 
lips  is  not  good  enough  for  her,"  she  thought,  "and 
therefore  I  am  to  take  him  for  myself,"  but  she  did 
not  dare  to  give  utterance  to  these  thoughts.  j 

At  this  moment  the  curfew  bell  began  to  ring 
in  the  monastery,  and  at  this  signal  the  recluse 
stepped  back  into  her  chamber  and  closed  her  shut- 
ter. The  hollow  sound  of  psalm-chanting  was 
heard  again,  accompanied  by  the  noise  of  falling 
strokes. 

Wiborad  was  flagellating  herself. 

Meanwhile  Romeias  had  begun  his  sport  in  the 
distant  wood,  and  thrown  his  spear;  but  he  had 
mistaken  the  trunk  of  a  felled  oak  for  a  young 
deer.  Angrily  he  pulled  out  his  weapon  from  the 
tenacious  wood.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life 
that  such  a  thing  had  happened  to  him.  j 

Before  Wiborad's  cell  total  silence  reigned  for 
a  considerable  length  of  time,  and  when  her  voice 
was  again  heard,  it  was  quite  altered;  the  tones 
being  fuller  and  vibrating  with  passion:  "Come 

(i2  I 


Ekkehard 

down  unto  me,  holy  Martin;  valiant  champion  of 
God ;  thou  consolation  of  my  solitude ;  thou  light 
in  my  darkness.  Descend  unto  me,  for  my  soul  is 
ready  to  receive  thee  and  my  eyes  are  thirsting  for 
thee." 

After  this  there  ensued  a  pause,  and  then  Praxe- 
dis  started  with  terror.  A  hollow  shriek  had  come 
from  within.  She  pushed  open  the  shutter  and 
looked  in.  The  recluse  was  prostrated  on  her 
knees,  her  arms  extended  beseechingly,  and  her 
eyes  had  a  fixed,  stony  expression.  Beside  her  lay 
the  scourge. 

"For  God's  sake,"  cried  Praxedis,  *'what  is  the 
matter  with  you?" 

Wiborad  jumped  up  and  pressed  the  hand  which 
the  Greek  maid  extended  to  her  convulsively. 
"Child  of  Earth,"  said  she  in  broken  accents,  "who 
hast  been  deemed  worthy  to  witness  the  agonies  of 
Wiborad,  strike  thy  bosom,  for  a  token  has  been 
given.  He,  the  elected  of  my  soul  has  not  come; 
offended  that  his  name  has  been  profaned  by  un- 
holy lips ;  but  the  holy  Gallus  has  appeared  to  my 
soul's  eye — he  who  as  yet  has  never  deigned  to 
visit  my  cell,  and  his  countenance  was  that  of  a 
sufferer,  and  his  garments  were  torn  and  half 
burned.  That  means  that  his  monastery  is  threat- 
ened by  some  great  disaster.  We  must  pray  that 
his  disciples  may  not  stumble  in  the  path  of  right- 


eousness.'* 


63 


Ekkehard 

Bending  her  head  out  of  the  window,  she  called 
out,  "Sister  Wendelgard!" 

Then  the  shutter  was  opened  on  the  opposite 
cell  and  an  aged  face  appeared.  The  face  belonged 
to  good  Dame  Wendelgard,  in  mourning  for  her 
spouse,  who  had  never  returned  from  the  last  wars. 

"Sister  Wendelgard,"  said  Wiborad,  "let  us  sing 
three  times  *Be  merciful  to  us,  O  Lord.'  " 

But  the  Sister  Wendelgard  had  just  been  indulg- 
ing in  loving  thoughts  of  her  noble  spouse.  She 
still  harbored  an  unalterable  conviction  that  some 
day  he  would  return  to  her  from  the  land  of  the 
Huns,  and  she  would  have  liked  best  there  and 
then  to  leave  her  cell  to  go  and  meet  him. 

"It  is  not  the  time  for  psalm-singing,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"So  much  the  more  acceptable  will  be  the  vol- 
untary devotion  that  rises  up  to  Heaven,"  said  Wi- 
borad, after  which  she  intoned  the  said  psalm  with 
her  rough  unmelodious  voice.  But  the  expected 
reponse  did  not  come.  "Why  dost  thou  not  join 
me  in  singing  David's  song?" 

"Because  I  don't  wish  to,"  was  Sister  Wendel- 
gard's  unceremonious  reply.  The  fact  was,  that 
during  the  many  years  of  her  seclusion  she  had  at 
last  grown  weary  of  it.  Many  thousand  psalms 
had  she  sung  at  Wiborad's  bidding,  in  order  to  in- 
duce St.  Martin  to  deliver  her  husband  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  infidels ;  but  the  sun  rose  and  set  daily^ 

64 


Ekkehard 

and  yet  he  never  came.  And  so  she  had  begun  to 
dislike  her  gaunt  neighbor,  with  her  visions  and 
phantasms. 

Wiborad,  however,  turned  her  eyes  upward,  like 
one  who  thinks  he  can  discover  a  comet  in  clear 
daylight.  "Oh,  thou  vessel  full  of  iniquity  and 
wickedness!"  she  cried,  "I  will  pray  for  thee,  that 
the  evil  spirits  may  be  banished  from  thee.  Thine 
eye  is  blind  as  thy  mind  is  dark."  . 

But  the  other  quietly  replied :  "Judge  not,  that 
thou  be  not  judged.  My  eyes  are  as  clear  as  they 
were  a  year  ago,  when  on  a  moonlight  night  they 
beheld  you  getting  out  of  your  window,  and  going 
away  Heaven  knows  where ;  and  my  mind  still  re- 
fuses to  believe  that  prayers  coming  from  such  a 
mouth  can  work  miracles." 

Then  Wiborad's  pale  face  became  distorted,  as 
if  she  had  bitten  a  pebble.  "Woe  to  thee,  whom 
the  Devil  has  deluded!"  screamed  she,  and  a  flood 
of  scalding  words  streamed  from  her  lips ;  but  her 
neighbor  knew,  well  how  to  answer  her  with  sim- 
ilar missiles. 

Quicker  and  quicker  the  words  came,  confused 
and  involved,  while  the  rocky  walls  threw  back 
inharmonious  echoes,  and  frightened  a  pair  of 
little  owlets,  which,  leaving  their  lofty  nest,  flew 
away  screeching. 

In  mute  astonishment  Praxedis  stood  listening 
to  the  noise,  secretly  wishing  to  interfere  and  make 

65 


Ekkehard 

peace;  but  then  a  soft  thing  fares  ill  between  two 
sharp  ones. 

But  now  the  merry  notes  of  a  horn,  intermingled 
with  the  loud  barking  of  dogs,  was  heard  from 
the  wood,  and  a  moment  later  the  tall  majestic 
figure  of  Romeias  could  be  seen  also,  approaching 
slowly. 

The  second  time  that  he  had  thrown  the  spear 
it  had  not  hit  a  tree,  but  a  magnificent  stag  of  ten 
antlers,  which  now  hung  over  his  shoulder;  and 
besides  this  he  carried  fastened  to  his  belt  six  hares 
which  had  been  caught  in  snares. 

On  beholding  the  fight  before  him,  the  sports- 
man's heart  rejoiced  mightily.  Without  saying  a 
word,  he  loosened  two  of  the  living  hares,  and 
swinging  one  in  each  hand,  he  threw  them  so  dex- 
terously into  the  narrow  little  windows  that  Wibo- 
rad,  suddenly  feeling  the  soft  fur  brushing  past  her 
head,  started  back  with  a  loud  scream.  The  brave 
Sister  Wendelgar  likewise  got  a  great  shock,  for 
her  black  habit  had  loosened  itself  in  the  heat  of 
battle,  and  the  wretched  little  hare,  getting  entan- 
gled therein,  and  trying  to  discover  an  outlet, 
caused  her  no  small  fright.  So  both  stopped  their 
scolding,  closed  the  shutters,  and  there  was  silence 
again  on  the  Hill  of  Erin. 

"We'll  go  home,"  said  Romeias  to  the  Greek 
maid,  "for  it  is  getting  late."  Praxedis,  who  was 
not  overpleased,  either  by  the  quarreling  or  Ro- 

66 


Ekkehard 

meias's  way  of  making  peace,  had  no  desire  to  stay 
any  longer.  Her  companions  had  gone  back  some 
time  ago,  following  their  own  inclinations. 

"Hares  must  be  of  small  value  here,  as  you 
throw  them  away  in  such  an  unmannerly  fashion," 
she  said. 

"True,  they  are  not  worth  much,"  Romeias  re- 
joined laughingly,  "yet  the  present  deserved  thanks 
at  least." 

While  still  speaking,  the  dormer-window  of  Wi- 
borad's  roof  opened ;  about  half  of  her  gaunt,  lean 
figure  became  visible,  and  a  stone  of  some  weight 
flew  over  Romeias's  head,  without  hitting  him. 
That  was  her  way  of  thanking  him  for  the  hare. 

From  this  can  be  seen  that  the  forms  of  so- 
cial intercourse  differed  somewhat  from  present 
methods. 

Praxedis  expressed  her  astonishment. 

"Oh,  such  things  happen  about  once  a  week," 
explained  Romeias.  "A  moderate  overflow  of  gall 
gives  new  strength  to  such  old  hags,  and  it  is  doing 
them  a  kindness  if  one  helps  them  to  effect  such  a 
crisis. 

"But  she  is  a  saint,"  said  Praxedis  shyly. 

After  first  murmuring  some  unintelligible  words 
in  his  beard,  Romeias  said :  "Well,  she  ought  to  be 
thankful  if  she  is  one,  and  I  am  not  going  to  tear 
ofif  her  garb  of  sanctity.  But  when  I  was  at  Con- 
stance on  a  visit  to  my  mother,  I  heard  many  a  tale 

-    67 


Ekkehard 

that's  not  quite  as  it  ought  to  be.  It  has  not  yet 
been  forgotten  in  those  parts  how  she  had  to  de- 
fend herself  before  the  bishop  on  account  of  this 
and  that,  which  is  none  of  my  business;  and  the 
Constance  merchants  will  tell  you,  without  your 
asking  them,  that  the  recluses  near  the  cathedral 
have  lent  them  money,  given  to  them  by  pious  pil- 
grims, on  usurious  interest.  It  was  not  my  fault 
that  once,  when  I  was  still  a  boy,  I  found  a  strange 
big  pebble  in  a  quarry.  When  I  knocked  it  to 
pieces  with  my  hammer,  there  was  a  toad  in  the 
middle,  looking  very  much  astonished.  Since  then 
I  know  what  a  recluse  is  like.  Snip-snap — trari- 
trara !" 

Romeias  accompanied  his  new  friend  to  the 
house  which  lay  beyond  the  cloister-walls  and 
which  was  destined  to  receive  her.  Before  it  the 
other  maids  were  standing,  and  the  posy  of  wild 
flowers  they  had  gathered  lay  on  a  stone  table 
before  the  door. 

"We  must  say  good-by,"  said  the  gatekeeper. 

"Farewell,"  said  Praxedis. 

He  then  went  away,  and  after  going  thirty  steps 
suddenly  turned  round — ^but  the  sun  does  not  rise 
twice  in  one  day,  least  of  all  for  the  keeper  of  a 
cloister-gate!  No  hand  was  being  kissed  to  him. 
Praxedis  had  entered  the  house.  Then  Romeias 
slowly  walked  back,  and,  without  troubling  himself 
to  ask  leave,  hastily  took  up  the  flowers  from  the 

68 


Ekkehard 

stone  table,  and  went  away.  The  stag  and  four 
hares  he  brought  to  the  kitchen.  After  this  he 
toiled  up  to  his  room  in  the  watch-tower,  fastened 
the  nosegay  to  the  wall  with  the  help  of  a  nail,  and, 
taking  a  piece  of  charcoal,  drew  a  heart  under  it, 
which  had  two  eyes,  a  long  stroke  in  lieu  of  a  nose, 
and  a  cross-line  for  a  mouth. 

He  had  just  finished  this  when  the  cloister  pupil 
Burkhard  came  up,  bent  upon  amusing  himself. 
Romeias  seized  him  with  a  powerful  grasp,  held 
out  the  charcoal,  and,  placing  him  before  the  wall, 
said:  "There,  write  the  name  under  it!" 

"What  name?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Hers,"  commanded  Romeias. 

"What  do  I  know  about  her  and  her  name?" 
testily  replied  the  pupil. 

"There,  one  sees  again  what  the  use  of  studying 
is,"  grumbled  Romeias.  "Every  day  the  boy  sits 
for  eight  hours  behind  his  asses'-skins  and  can  not 
know  the  name  of  a  strange  damsel !" 


69 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER   IV 

IN    THE    MONASTERY 

Dame  Hadwig  had  meanwhile  performed  her 
devotions  at  the  grave  of  the  holy  Gallus.  The 
Abbot  was  then  about  to  propose  a  walk  in  the 
cloister-garden,  but  she  asked  him  first  to  show  her 
the  treasures  of  the  church.  The  mind  of  woman, 
however  intellectual,  ever  delights  in  ornaments, 
jewels,  and  fine  garments.  The  Abbot  tried  hard 
to  dissuade  her  from  this  wish,  saying  that  theirs 
was  but  a  poor  little  monastery,  and  that  his  cousin, 
no  doubt,  had  seen  far  better  things  on  her  travels 
or  at  court,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  So  they  went  to 
the  sacristy.  Here  the  cupboards  were  first  opened, 
revealing  many  purple  chasubles  and  magnificent 
priest's  garments,  with  embroidered  pictures,  rep- 
resentations of  the  holy  history.  Here  and  there 
was  also  some  piece  strongly  reminding  one  of  Ro- 
man heathenism,  such  as  the  marriage  of  Mercury 
with  Philology.  When  the  cupboards  were  dis- 
posed of,  large  boxes  were  opened,  full  of  silver 
lamps,  golden  crowns,  finely  wrought  frames  for 
the  holy  books,  and  ornaments  for  the  altar.    These 

70 


Ekkehard 

things  had  mostly  been  brought  over  the  Alps  by 
monks,  who,  tying  them  round  their  knees,  had 
thus  slyly  preserved  them  from  covetous  eyes  and 
hands.  Beautiful  vessels  in  all  sorts  of  curious 
forms;  candlesticks  in  the  shape  of  dolphins;  gol- 
den drinking-cups  resting  on  silver  pillars ;  censers 
and  many  other  beautiful  articles — altogether  a 
rich  treasure.  A  chalice  made  of  a  single  piece  of 
amber,  which  glistened  wonderfully  when  held  to 
the  light,  attracted  the  Duchess's  notice.  At  the 
edge  a  small  piece  was  broken  off. 

"When  my  predecessor  Hartmuth  was  dying," 
said  the  Abbot,  "that  little  bit  was  powdered  and 
given  to  him,  mixed  with  wine  and  honey,  to  calm 
the  fever." 

In  the  middle  of  the  amber  was  a  tiny  fly,  as 
well  preserved  as  if  it  had  but  just  settled  down 
there.  Probably  the  little  insect,  sitting  content- 
edly on  its  blade  of  grass  in  antediluvian  times, 
when  the  liquid  resin  streamed  over  it,  little 
thought  that  it  would  thus  be  bequeathed  to  far- 
off  generations. 

But  such  dumb  testimonials  of  nature's  powers 
were  little  heeded  then.  At  least  the  chamberlain 
Spazzo,  who  surveyed  and  examined  everything 
with  a  careful  eye,  was  occupied  the  while  with 
very  different  ideas.  He  thought  how  much  pleas- 
anter  it  would  be  to  be  at  war  with  the  pious  monks, 
and,  instead  of  claiming  their  hospitality  as  a  friend, 

71   .  ■  '     ) 


Ekkehard 

to  enter,  arms  in  hand,  and  carry  all  the  treasures 
away.  Having  witnessed  in  his  time  many  a  re- 
verse of  friendship  between  the  high-born,  he  was 
inwardly  speculating  on  this  possibility,  and,  eying 
keenly  the  entrance  to  the  sacristy,  he  murmured  to 
himself:  "Coming  from  the  choir  'tis  the  first  door 
to  the  right  f" 

The  Abbot,  who  probably  thought  likewise  that 
the  prolonged  examination  of  the  gold  and  silver 
produced  a  hankering  for  their  possession,  slyly 
omitted  opening  the  last  box,  which  contained  the 
most  magnificent  things  of  all,  and  in  order  to  di- 
vert their  attention  from  them  urgently  proposed 
their  going  into  the  open  air. 

So  the  party  directed  their  steps  toward  the  gar- 
den, which  occupied  a  considerable  space,  and  pro- 
duced many  vegetables  and  fruits  for  the  kitchen, 
as  well  as  useful  herbs  for  medicines. 

In  the  orchard  a  large  portion  was  divided  off 
and  reserved  for  wild  animals  and  numerous  birds, 
such  as  were  to  be  found  in  the  neighboring  Alps ; 
and  rarer  ones  which  had  been  sent  as  presents,  by 
stranger  guests  from  foreign  countries. 

Dame  Hadwig  took  great  pleasure  in  looking  at 
the  rough,  uncouth  bears,  which  were  funny 
enough  when  climbing  about  on  the  tree  in  their 
prison.  Close  to  these,  two  monkeys,  chained  to- 
gether, played  their  merry  antics — two  creatures 
of  which  a  poet  of  that  time  said  that  neither  one 

72 


Ekkehard 

nor  the  other  possessed  a  single  trace  of  the  faculty 
of  making  itself  useful  enough  to  establish  a  claim 
to  its  existence. 

An  old  wild  goat  with  bent-down  head  stood 
motionless  within  its  narrow  pen,  for  since  being 
carried  off  from  the  icy  atmosphere  of  its  snowy 
mountain  peaks  and  glaciers,  this  native  of  the 
Alps  had  become  blind — for  it  is  not  every  crea- 
ture that  can  thrive  amid  low-lying  human  habita- 
tions. 

In  another  division  a  large  family  of  thick- 
skinned  badgers  was  living.  On  passing  them  the 
evil  Sindolt  exclaimed  laughingly:  "Heaven  bless 
you  miserable  little  beasts,  the  chosen  game  of 
pious  monks." 

On  another  side  was  heard  a  shrill  whistle  from 
a  troop  of  marmots,  which  were  running  quickly  to 
hide  themselves  in  the  chinks  and  crevices  of  the 
artificial  rockery  that  served  as  their  dwelling. 
Dame  Hadwig  had  never  beheld  such  amusing  lit- 
tle creatures  before.  The  Abbot  told  her  of  their 
way  of  living. 

"These  animals,"  said  he,  "sleep  more  than  any 
other  creature ;  but  when  awake  they  show  a  won- 
derful sharpness  and  forethought,  for  when  winter 
approaches  they  gather  up  grass  and  hay  wherever 
they  find  it,  and  one  of  them  lies  down  on  its  back, 
while  the  others  put  on  it  everything  they  have 
scraped    together,   and    then    they    seize    it    by 

7o 

Vol.  3  (A)— 4 


Ekkehard 

the  tail,  and  drag  it  like  a  loaded  cart  into  their 
caverns. 

Then  Sindolt  said  to  the  stout  chamberlain,  Mas- 
ter Spazzo:  'What  a  pity  that  you  have  not  be- 
come a  mountain-rat;  that  would  have  been  a 
pleasant  and  graceful  occupation  for  you." 

When  the  Abbot  had  proceeded  a  few  paces,  the 
evil  Sindolt  began  to  give  a  new  sort  of  explana- 
tion :  "That  is  our  Tutilo,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a 
bear,  which  had  just  thrown  down  one  of  its  com- 
panions; "that  the  blind  Thieto" — pointing  to  the 
wild  goat — and  he  was  just  about  to  honor  the  Ab- 
bot with  some  flattering  comparison,  when  the 
Duchess  interrupted  him  by  saying:  "As  you  are 
so  clever  in  finding  similes,  will  you  find  one  for 
me  also?" 

Sindolt  became  embarrassed.  Luckily  his  eye 
now  fell  on  a  beautiful  silver-pheasant,  which  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  troop  of  cranes,  basking  in  the 
sunshine  which  lighted  up  its  pearly  gray  feathers. 

"There,"  said  Sindolt. 

But  the  Duchess  turned  round  to  Ekkehard,  who 
gazed  dreamily  at  the  bustle  and  life  before  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  asked  she. 

He  started  up.  "Oh,  mistress!"  said  he  in  soft 
tones,  "who  is  so  audacious  as  to  compare  you  to 
anything  that  flies  or  crawls?" 

"But  if  we  desire  it?" 

"Then  I  only  know  of  one  bird,"  said  Ekkehard. 

74 


Ekkehard 

*'We  have  not  got  it,  nor  has  any  one;  in  starlit 
nights  it  flies  high  over  our  heads,  brushing  the  sky 
with  its  wings.  The  bird's  name  is  Caradrion,  and 
when  its  wings  touch  the  earth  a  sick  man  is  healed. 
Then  the  bird,  inclining  toward  the  man,  opens  its 
beak  over  his  mouth,  and  taking  the  man's  sickness 
unto  itself  rises  up  to  the  sun,  and  purifies  itself 
in  the  eternal  light;  and  the  man  is  saved." 

The  Abbot's  return  put  a  stop  to  further  similes. 
One  of  the  serving  brothers  was  sitting  in  an  apple- 
tree,  plucking  the  apples,  and  putting  them  into 
baskets.  When  the  Duchess  approached  the  tree, 
he  was  going  to  descend,  but  she  made  him  a  sign 
to  stop  where  he  was. 

Now,  the  singing  of  sweet  boyish  voices  was 
heard.  The  voices  were  those  of  the  younger  clois- 
ter-pupils who  came  to  do  homage  to  the  Duchess. 
Children  as  they  were,  the  little  fellows  already 
wore  the  monastic  habit,  and  several  even  the  ton- 
sure on  their  eleven-year-old  heads.  When  the 
procession  of  the  little  rosy-cheeked  future  abbots 
came  in  sight,  with  their  eyes  cast  down  and  sing- 
ing their  sequences  so  seriously,  a  slight,  mocking 
smile  played  round  Dame  Hadwig's  lips,  and  with 
her  strong  foot  she  upset  the  nearest  of  the  baskets, 
so  that  the  apples  rolled  about  enticingly  on  the 
ground,  in  the  midst  of  the  boys.  But  unabashed 
they  continued  their  walk;  only  one  of  the  youngest 
wanted  to  bend  down  and  take  up  the  tempting 

75 


Ekkehard 

fruit,  which  his  companion  forcibly  prevented,  by 
taking  a  good  hold  of  his  girdle. 

Much  pleased  the  Abbot  witnessed  the  young 
folks'  excellent  behavior  and  said:  "Discipline  dis- 
tinguishes human  beings  from  animals,  and  if  you 
were  to  throw  the  apples  of  Hesperides  among 
them,  they  would  remain  steadfast." 

Dame  Hadwig  was  touched.  "Are  all  your 
pupils  so  well  trained?"  asked  she. 

"If  you  like  to  convince  yourself  with  your  own 
eyes,"  said  the  Abbot,  "you  will  see  that  the  elder 
ones  know  quite  as  well  the  meaning  of  obedience 
and  submission." 

The  Duchess,  nodding  an  assent,  was  then  led 
into  the  outer  cloister-school,  in  which  the  sons  of 
noblemen,  and  those  who  intended  to  join  the  sec- 
ular clergy,  were  educated. 

They  entered  the  upper  class.  In  the  lecturer's 
chair  stood  Ratpert,  the  wise  and  learned  teacher, 
who  was  initiating  his  pupils  into  the  mysteries 
of  Aristotle's  logic.  With  bent  heads  the  young 
scholars  sat  before  their  parchments,  scarcely  lift- 
ing their  eyes  to  look  at  the  party  now  entering. 
The  teacher  inwardly  thought  this  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  gather  some  laurels,  and  called  out:  "Not- 
ker  Labeo!"  This  was  the  pearl  among  his  pupils, 
the  hope  of  science,  who  on  a  weakly  body  carried 
a  powerful  head,  with  an  immense  protruding 
nether  lip,  the  cause  of  his  surname,  the  symbol  of 

76 


Ekkehard 

great  determination  and  perseverance  on  the  stony 
roads  of  investigation. 

"He  will  become  a  great  man,"  whispered  the 
Abbot.  ''Already  in  his  twelfth  year  he  said  that 
the  world  was  like  a  book,  and  that  the  monasteries 
were  the  classical  passages  in  it." 

The  young  man  in  question  let  his  eyes  glide  over 
the  Greek  text,  and  then  translated  with  pompous 
solemnity  the  deep,  intricate  meaning  thereof: 

"If  on  a  stone  or  piece  of  wood  you  find  a 
straight  line  running  through,  that  is  the  mutual 
line  of  demarcation  of  the  even  surface.  If  the 
stone  or  wood  were  to  split  along  that  line,  then 
we  should  behold  two  intersections,  near  the  vis- 
ible chink,  where  there  was  only  one  line  before. 
Besides  this  we  see  two  new  surfaces,  which  are  as 
broad  as  the  object  was  thick,  before  one  could  see 
the  new  surface.  From  this  it  appears  that  this 
object  existed  as  a  whole  before  it  was  divided." 

But  when  this  translation  had  been  well  got 
through,  some  of  the  young  logicians  put  their 
heads  together,  and  began  to  whisper,  and  the  whis- 
pers became  louder  and  louder — even  the  cloister- 
pupil  Hepidan,  who,  undisturbed  by  Notker's 
capital  translation,  was  employing  all  his  skill  to 
carve  a  devil  with  a  double  pair  of  wings,  and  a 
long  curling  tail,  on  the  bench  before  him,  stopped 
with  his  work.  Then  the  teacher  addressed  the 
next  boy,  with  the  question:  "But  how  does  the 

77 


Ekkehard 

surface  become  a  mutual  line  of  demarcation?" 
upon  which  he  began  to  blunder  over  the  Greek 
text;  but  the  commotion  in  the  school-benches  be- 
came louder  still,  so  that  there  arose  a  buzzing  and 
booming  like  distant  alarm-bells.  The  translation 
ceased  altogether  and  suddenly  the  whole  mass  of 
Ratpert's  pupils  rushed  up  noisily,  toward  the 
Duchess.  In  the  next  moment  they  had  torn  her 
from  the  Abbot's  side,  shouting  "Caught,  caught," 
and,  making  barricades  with  the  benches,  they  re- 
peated their  cries:  "We  have  caught  the  Duchess 
of  Suabia!    What  shall  be  her  ransom?" 

Dame  Hadwig,  in  the  course  of  her  life,  had 
found  herself  in  various  positions,  but  that  she 
could  ever  become  the  prisoner  of  schoolboys  had 
certainly  never  entered  her  head.  This  having, 
however,  the  charm  of  novelty  for  her,  she  sub- 
mitted to  her  fate  with  a  good  grace. 

Ratpert  the  teacher  took  out  of  the  cupboard  a 
mighty  rod,  and  swinging  it  over  his  head,  like  a 
second  Neptune,  he  recited,  in  a  thundering  voice, 
the  verses  of  Virgil: 


(( 


So  far  has  the  conceit  in  your  pitiful  powers  decoyed  you, 
That,  not  awaiting  my  will,  and  rousing  the  heavens  and 

waters, 
Ye  have  ventured  to  stir,  ye  rebellious  winds  of  the 

ocean  ? 
Quos  ego!" 

78 


Ekkehard 

A  renewed  shout  was  the  answer.  The  room  was 
already  divided  by  a  wall  of  benches  and  stools, 
and  Master  Spazzo  was  inwardly  meditating  the 
expediency  of  an  attack,  and  the  effect  of  vigorous 
blows  on  the  heads  of  the  ringleaders.  As  for  the 
Abbot,  he  was  perfectly  speechless,  as  this  unex- 
pected audacity  had  quite  paralyzed  his  faculties 
for  the  moment.  The  high-born  prisoner  stood  at 
the  other  end  of  the  schoolroom,  in  a  niche,  sur- 
rounded by  her  fifteen-year-old  captors. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  you  wicked 
boys?"  asked  she,  smilingly. 

Then  one  of  the  rebels  advanced,  bent  his  knee 
before  her  and  humbly  said:  "He  who  comes  as  a 
stranger  is  without  protection  or  peace,  and  peace- 
less  people  are  kept  prisoners,  until  they  have  paid 
a  ransom  for  their  liberty." 

"Do  you  learn  that  out  of  your  Greek  books?" 
"No,  mistress,  that  is  German  law." 
"Very  well,  then  I  will  ransom  myself,"  said 
Dame  Hadwig,  and  laughing  merrily  she  seized 
the  red-cheeked  logician,  and  drawing  him  toward 
her  attempted  to  kiss  him.  He,  however,  tore 
himself  away,  and  joining  the  noisy  ranks  of  his 
companions  cried  out: 

"That  coin  we  do  not  understand!" 
"What  ransom  do  you  exact  then?"  asked  the 
Duchess,  who  was  fast  getting  impatient. 
"The  Bishop  of  Constance  was  also  our  pris- 

79 


Ekkehard 

oner/'  replied  the  pupil,  "and  he  obtained  for  us 
three  additional  holidays  in  the  year,  as  well  as  a 
feast  of  bread  and  meat,  and  has  further  secured 
this  to  us  with  his  name  and  seal." 

"Oh  gluttonous  youth!"  said  Dame  Hadwig. 
"Then  I  must  at  least  do  as  much  for  you  as  the 
bishop.    Have  you  ever  tasted  the  Bodensee  carp?" 

"No!"  cried  the  boys. 

"Then  you  shall  receive  six  fish  as  an  annual 
present.    This  fish  is  good  for  young  beaks." 

"Do  you  secure  this  to  us  with  your  name  and 
seal?" 

"If  it  must  be  so,  yes." 

"Long  life  to  the  Duchess  of  Suabia!  All  hail!" 
was  now  shouted  on  all  sides.  "Hail!  she  is  free." 
The  school-benches  were  quickly  removed,  the  pas- 
sage cleared,  and  jumping  and  shouting  trium- 
phantly they  led  back  their  prisoner. 

In  the  background  the  parchment  leaves  of  Aris- 
totle flew  up  into  the  air,  as  outward  signs  of  joy. 
Even  the  corners  of  Notker  Labeo's  mouth  turned 
down  into  a  broad  grin,  and  Dame  Hadwig  said: 
"The  young  gentlemen  were  very  gracious.  Please 
to  put  back  the  rod  into  the  cupboard,  honored 
professor." 

A  continuation  of  the  translation  of  Aristotle 
was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Who  can  tell  whether 
the  uproarious  outbreak  of  the  pupils  was  not  in 
close  connection  with  their  study  of  logic?    Seri- 

80 


Ekkehard 

ousness  is  often  a  very  dry  and  leafless  trunk;  else 
folly  would  scarcely  find  room  to  wind  her  wan- 
ton green-leafed  tendrils  around  it.  .    .    . 

When  the  Duchess,  accompained  by  the  Abbot, 
had  left  the  schoolroom,  the  latter  said:  "There  is 
nothing  now  left  to  show  you  but  the  library  of  the 
monastery,  the  well  for  thirsty  souls,  the  armory 
with  its  weapons  of  science."  But  Dame  Hadwig 
was  tired,  and  so  declined  his  offer. 

"I  must  keep  my  word,"  said  she,  "and  make 
the  donation  to  your  boys  documental.  Will  you 
be  pleased  to  have  the  parchment  got  ready,  that 
I  may  affix  my  signature  and  seal." 

Sir  Cralo  conducted  his  guest  to  his  apartments. 
On  going  along  the  cross-passage,  they  passed  a 
small  room,  the  door  of  which  was  open.  Close  to 
the  bare  wall  stood  a  pillar,  from  the  middle  of 
which  hung  a  chain.  Over  the  portal,  in  faded 
colors,  was  painted  a  figure  which  held  a  rod  in 
its  lean  hand.  "Him  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he 
chastiseth,"  was  written  under  it  in  capital  letters. 

Dame  Hadwig  cast  an  inquiring  look  at  the 
Abbot. 

"The  scourging  room!"  replied  he. 

"Is  none  of  the  brothers  just  now  liable  to  pun- 
ishment?" asked  she;  "it  might  be  a  warning  ex- 
ample." 

Then  the  evil  Sindolt's  feet  twitched  as  if  he 
had  trodden  on  a  thorn.     He  turned  round  as  if 

8i 


Ekkehard 

he  had  been  attracted  by  a  voice  calling  to  hinn, 
and  exclaiming,  "I  am  coming,"  he  quickly  van- 
ished into  the  darker  parts  of  the  passage.  He  well 
knew  why  he  did  so. 

Notker,  the  stutterer,  after  the  labor  of  years, 
had  at  last  completed  a  psalm-book,  adorned  with 
dainty  drawings.  This  book  the  envious  Sindolt 
had  destroyed  at  night;  cutting  it  to  pieces,  and 
upsetting  a  jug  of  wine  over  it.  On  account  of 
this  he  had  been  sentenced  to  be  flogged  three 
times,  and  the  last  instalment  was  still  due.  He 
knew  the  room  and  the  instruments  of  penance 
hanging  on  the  walls  well  enough,  from  the  nine- 
tailed  "scorpion"  down  to  the  simple  "wasp." 

The  Abbot  hurried  on.  His  rooms  of  state  were 
richly  decorated  with  flowers.  Dame  Hadwig 
threw  herself  into  the  primitive  armchair,  to  rest 
from  the  fatigue  of  all  the  sight-seeing.  She  had 
received  many  new  impressions  within  the  space  of 
a  few  hours.  There  was  still  half  an  hour  left  be- 
fore supper. 

Had  any  one  taken  the  trouble  to  visit  all  the 
cloister-cells,  he  might  have  satisfied  himself  that 
not  a  single  inhabitant  thereof  had  remained  un- 
affected by  the  arrival  of  the  high-born  guests. 
Even  men  who  pass  their  lives  in  complete  seclu- 
sion feel  that  they  owe  homage  to  woman. 

The  hoary  Tutilo  had  remembered  with  a  pang, 
on  the  arrival  of  the  Duchess,  that  the  left  sleeve 

82 


Ekkehard 

of  his  habit  was  adorned  with  a  hole.  Under  ordi- 
nary circumstances  the  sleeve  would  probably  have 
remained  unpatched  until  the  next  great  festival, 
but  now  there  was  no  time  for  delay.  So  he  sat 
down  on  his  couch,  provided  with  needle  and 
thread,  busily  mending  the  rent.  Being  once  busy 
with  such  things  he  also  put  new  soles  to  his  san- 
dals; fastening  them  with  nails,  and  humming  a 
tune  to  speed  the  work.  Ratold,  the  thinker, 
walked  up  and  down  in  his  cell,  with  a  deep  frown 
on  his  forehead,  hoping  that  an  opportunity  would 
present  itself  to  praise  the  virtues  of  the  high-born 
guest  in  an  improvised  speech,  and  to  heighten 
the  effect  of  the  spontaneous  effusion  he  was  study- 
ing it  beforehand.  He  intended  to  take  the  follow- 
ing lines  of  Tacitus,  "On  the  Germans,"  for  a  text: 
"They  believe  also  that  there  is  something  holy 
about  women,  and  that  they  have  the  gift  of  seeing 
into  the  future.  Therefore  they  never  disdain  the 
advice  given  by  them,  and  often  follow  their  warn- 
ings." This  was  about  all  that  he  knew  of  the  other 
sex,  but  his  squirrel-eyes  twinkled  with  the  hope 
of  being  able,  from  the  praise  of  the  Duchess,  easily 
to  diverge  to  some  spiteful  criticism  on  his  breth- 
ren. Unfortunately  the  opportunity  to  bring  in 
his  speech  never  came,  or  he  did  not  know  how  to 
seize  it. 

In  another  cell  six  of  the  brothers  sat  under 
the  huge  ivory  comb,  which  was  suspended  by  an 

83 


Ekkehard 

iron  chain  from  the  ceiling.  This  was  a  very  use- 
ful institution  established  by  Abbot  Hartmuth. 
Murmuring  the  prescribed  prayers,  they  assisted 
one  another  in  the  careful  arrangement  of  each 
other's  hair.  Many  an  overgrown  tonsure  was  also 
restored  to  a  shining  smoothness  on  that  day. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  in  the  monas- 
tery itself,  no  less  activity  was  displayed  in  the 
kitchen  under  the  superintendence  of  Gerold,  the 
steward.  And  now  resounded  the  tinkling  of  that 
bell,  the  sounds  of  which  were  not  heard  without  a 
pleasurable  sensation  even  by  the  most  pious  of  the 
brethren,  as  it  was  the  signal  for  the  evening  meal. 
Abbot  Cralo  led  the  Duchess  into  the  refectory. 
The  large  room  was  divided  in  the  middle  by  nine 
pillars,  and  around  fourteen  covered  tables  the 
members  of  the  monastery,  priests  and  deacons, 
stood  assembled,  like  champions  of  the  church 
militant.  These,  however,  did  not  pay  any  great 
attention  to  the  noble  guest. 

The  duty  of  reader  for  that  week  before  the 
meals  had  to  be  performed  by  Ekkehard,  the  cus- 
todian. In  honor  of  the  Duchess  he  had  chosen  the 
45th  Psalm.  He  arose  and  said:  "O  Lord,  open 
my  lips,  that  my  mouth  may  speak  forth  Thy 
praise,"  and  all  repeated  these  words  in  a  low  mur- 
mur, as  a  sort  of  blessing  on  his  reading. 

After  that  he  lifted  his  voice  and  began  reciting 
the  psalm,  which  Scripture  itself  calls  a  lovely  one. 

84 


Ekkehard 


U  <1 


'My  heart  is  inditing  a  good  matter:  I  speak 
of  the  things  which  I  have  made  touching  the 
king:  my  tongue  is  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer. 

"'Thou  art  fairer  than  the  children  of  men: 
grace  is  poured  into  thy  lips:  therefore  God  hath 
blessed  thee  for  ever. 

"  'Gird  thy  sword  upon  thy  thigh,  O  most 
mighty,  with  thy  glory  and  thy  majesty. 

"  'And  in  thy  majesty  ride  prosperously  because 
of  truth  and  meekness  and  righteousness.  .    .    . 

"  'Thine  arrows  are  sharp  in  the  heart  of  the 
king's  enemies ;  whereby  the  people  fall  under  thee. 

"'Thy  throne,  O  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever: 
the  sceptre  of  thy  kingdom  is  a  right  sceptre. 

"  'Thou  lovest  righteousness,  and  hatest  wicked- 
ness: therefore  God,  thy  God,  hath  anointed  thee 
with  the  oil  of  gladness  above  thy  fellows. 

"  'All  thy  garments  smell  of  myrrh,  and  aloes, 
and  cassia.  .    .    .' " 

The  Duchess  seemed  to  understand  the  latent 
homage  and  as  if  she  herself  was  being  addressed 
in  the  words  of  the  psalm,  she  fastened  her  eyes  in- 
tently on  Ekkehard.  But  the  Abbot  likewise  had 
noticed  this,  and  made  a  sign  to  interrupt  the  read- 
ing; and  thus  the  psalm  remained  unfinished,  and 
every  one  sat  down  to  supper. 

Sir  Cralo  could  not,  however,  prevent  Dame 
Hadwig's  ordering  the  zealous  reader  to  sit  down 
by  her  side.    According  to  rank,  this  seat  on  her 

85     . 


Ekkehard 

left  side,  had  been  destined  for  the  old  dean  Goz- 
bert;  but  he  for  the  last  few  minutes  had  been  sit- 
ting on  thorns ;  for  he  had  once  indulged  in  a  very 
rough-spoken  dispute  with  Dame  Hadwig's  late 
husband,  at  the  time  when  the  latter  carried  off  the 
precious  chalice,  as  a  war  contribution.  On  that 
account  he  had  also  a  grudge  against  the  Duchess, 
and  had  no  sooner  remarked  her  intention,  than 
he  gladly  moved  downward,  and  pushed  the  cus- 
todian into  his  seat.  Next  to  Ekkehard  came 
Spazzo  the  chamberlain,  and  after  him  the  monk 
Sindolt. 

The  meal  began.  The  steward,  well  knowing 
that  the  arrival  of  strange  guests  fully  sanctioned 
an  enlargement  of  the  accustomed  frugal  cloister- 
fare,  had  not  restricted  himself  to  the  ordinary 
porridge.  The  strict  bill  of  fare  of  the  late  Abbot 
Hartmuth  was  also  not  adhered  to. 

To  be  sure,  there  appeared  first  a  steaming  dish 
of  millet-porridge,  that  those  who  preferred 
strictly  to  adhere  to  the  prescribed  rule  might  sat- 
isfy their  hunger;  but  after  that,  one  delicacy  fol- 
lowed another  in  quick  succession.  Side  by  side 
with  the  roast  stag  stood  the  delicious  bear's  ham, 
and  even  the  beaver  of  the  upper  pond,  which  had 
been  deprived  of  life  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 
Pheasants,  partridges,  turtle-doves,  and  a  rich  col- 
lection of  smaller  birds  followed;  as  well  as  an 
immense  quantity  of  fish  of  all  descriptions,  so  that 

86 


Ekkehard 

finally  every  species  of  animal — crawling,  flying, 
or  swimming — that  was  good  to  eat,  was  repre- 
sented on  the  table. 

Many  a  one  of  the  brothers  fought  a  fierce  battle 
within  the  depths  of  his  heart  on  that  day.  Even 
Gozbert,  the  old  dean,  after  having  stilled  the 
cravings  of  hunger  with  millet-porridge,  and  hav- 
ing pushed  aside  with  a  tremendous  frown  the 
roasted  stag  and  bear's  ham,  as  if  it  were  a  tempta- 
tion of  the  Evil  One,  when  a  beautifully  roasted 
grouse  was  put  down  before  him,  felt  the  odor 
thereof  rise  temptingly  into  his  nostrils.  And  with 
the  savory  smell  the  memories  of  his  youth  came 
back;  when  he  himself  was  a  first-rate  sportsman, 
fully  two  score  years  ago,  and  when  he  went  out 
in  the  early  morning  to  shoot  the  woodcock,  and 
meet  the  gamekeeper's  bright-eyed  daughter;  and 
twice  he  resisted  the  half  involuntary  movement 
of  his  arm,  the  third  time  he  felt  his  strength  going, 
and  a  moment  after,  one-half  of  the  bird  lay  before 
him,  and  was  hastily  despatched. 

Spazzo,  the  chamberlain,  had  watched  with  an 
approving  nod  the  appearance  of  the  many  dishes. 
A  large  Rhine-salmon  had  quickly  disappeared 
under  his  hands,  and  he  now  cast  his  eyes  about, 
in  search  of  something  to  drink.  Then  Sindolt,  his 
neighbor,  seized  a  small  stone  jug,  poured  out  its 
contents  into  a  metal  cup  and  said:  "Your  health 
in  the  choicest  wine  of  the  monastery." 

87 


Ekkehard 

Master  Spazzo  intended  to  take  a  copious  draft, 
but  scarcely  had  the  liquid  touched  his  palate, 
when  he  put  down  the  goblet  hastily,  shaking  all 
over  as  with  the  ague,  and  exclaimed :  "Then  may 
the  Devil  be  friar!" 

The  evil  Sindolt  had  given  him  a  sour  cider, 
made  of  crab-apples,  and  sweetened  with  the  juice 
of  the  blackberry.  On  Master  Spazzo's  looking 
inclined  to  thank  him  by  a  blow,  he  quickly  fetched 
a  jug  of  the  delicious  red  "Valtelliner,"  wherewith 
to  'soften  his  ire.  The  "Valtelliner"  is  a  capital 
wine,  in  which  formerly  the  Roman  Emperor  Au- 
gustus drowned  his  grief  over  the  lost  battle  of 
Varus.  By  degrees  Master  Spazzo's  good  humor 
returned;  so  that  without  knowing  him,  he  will- 
ingly drank  tt)  the  health  of  the  Bishop  of  Chur, 
to  whom  the  monastery  was  indebted  for  this 
wine,  and  Sindolt  did  not  fail  to  keep  him 
company. 

"What  may  your  patron  say  to  such  drinking?" 
asked  the  chamberlain. 

"St.  Benedict  was  a  wise  man,"  replied  Sindolt, 
"therefore  he  ordained,  that  although  it  had  been 
written  that  wine  was  altogether  no  drink  for 
monks,  yet  as  not  a  single  person,  at  the  present 
day,  could  be  persuaded  of  the  justness  of  this  ob- 
servation, and  in  consequence  of  the  weakness  of 
the  human  mind,  every  one  should  be  allowed  a 
bottle  a  day.    No  one,,  however,  is  to  drink  to  sa- 

88 


Ekkehard 

tiety,  for  wine  will  make  even  the  wisest  swerve 
from  the  path  of  wisdom." 

"Good  "  said  Spazzo,  and  drained  his  tumbler. 

"On  the  other  hand,"  continued  Sindolt,  "those 
of  the  brotherhood  in  whose  district  little  or  no 
wine  grows  must  resign  themselves,  and  praise  the 
Lord  without  grumbling." 

"Good  also,"  said  Spazzo,  again  emptying  his 
goblet. 

Meanwhile  the  Abbot  did  his  best  to  entertain 
his  ducal  cousin.  He  first  began  to  sing  the  praises 
of  her  late  husband,  Sir  Burkhard,  but  Dame  Had- 
wig's  responses  were  but  scanty  and  cold,  so  that 
the  Abbot  found  out  that  everything  has  its  time, 
especially  the  love  of  a  widow  for  her  late  spouse. 
So  he  changed  the  conversation,  asking  her  how 
the  cloister-schools  had  pleased  her. 

"I  feel  sorry  for  the  poor  fellows,  who  are  forced 
to  learn  so  much  in  their  early  days,"  said  the 
Duchess.  "Is  not  that  a  burden  for  them  under  the 
weight  of  which  they  suffer  all  their  lives?" 

"Pardon  m,e,  noble  cousin,"  replied  the  Abbot, 
"if  both  in  the  capacity  of  friend  and  relation  I 
beg  you  not  to  indulge  in  such  thoughtless  speech, 
"^he  study  of  science  is  no  disagreeable  obliga- 
tion for  the  young;  rather  is  it  to  them  like  straw- 
berries, the  more  they  eat  the  more  they  want." 

"But  what  can  they  have  to  do  with  the  heathen 
art  of  logic?"  asked  Dame  Hadwig. 

89 


Ekkehard 

"That,  in  proper  hands,  becomes  a  weapon  to 
protect  God's  church,"  said  the  Abbot.  "With 
such  arts  heretics  were  wont  to  attack  believers, 
but  now  we  fight  them  with  their  own  arms ;  and 
believe  me,  good  Greek  or  Latin  is  a  much  finer 
instrument  than  our  native  language,  which  even 
in  the  hands  of  the  ablest  is  but  an  unwieldy 
bludgeon.'- 

"Indeed,'^  said  the  Duchess,  "must  we  still  learn 
from  you  what  is  to  be  admired?  I  have  existed 
until  now  without  speaking  the  Latin  tongue.  Sir 
Cousin." 

"It  would  not  harm  you  if  you  were  still  to 
learn  it,"  said  the  Abbot,  "and  when  the  first 
euphonious  sounds  of  the  Latin  tongue  shall  have 
gladdened  your  ear,  you  will  admit  that,  com- 
pared to  it,  our  mother-tongue  is  but  a  young  bear, 
which  can  neither  stand  nor  walk  well  before  it 
has  been  licked  by  a  classical  tongue.  Besides, 
much  wisdom  flows  from  the  mouths  of  the  old 
Romans.    Ask  your  neighbor  to  the  left." 

"Is  it  so?"  asked  Dame  Hadwig,  turning  toward 
Ekkehard,  who  had  silently  listened  to  the  fore- 
going conversation. 

"It  would  be  true,  liege  lady,"  said  he  enthu- 
siastically, "if  you  still  needed  to  learn  wisdom." 

Dame  Hadwig  archly  heldiup  her  forefinger. 
"Have  you  yourself  derived  pleasure  from  those 
old  parchments?" 

90 


Ekkehard 

"Both  pleasure  and  happiness,"  exclaimed  Ekke- 
hard with  beaming  eyes.  "Believe  me,  mistress, 
one  does  well  to  go  to  the  classics  for  advice  in 
all  positions  of  life.  Does  not  Cicero  teach  us  to 
walk  safely  in  the  intricate  paths  of  worldly  pru- 
dence? Do  we  not  gather  confidence  and  courage 
from  Livy  and  Sallust?  Do  not  the  songs  of  Vir- 
gil awaken  us  to  the  conception  of  imperishable 
beauty?  The  Gospel  is  the  guiding-star  of  our 
faith;  the  old  classics,  however,  have  left  a  light 
behind  them,  which,  like  the  glow  of  the  evening 
sun,  sends  refreshment  and  joy  into  the  hearts  of 
men." 

Ekkehard  spoke  with  emotion.  Since  the  day 
on  which  the  old  Duke  Burkhard  had  asked  her 
hand  in  marriage  the  Duchess  had  not  seen  any 
one  who  showed  enthusiasm  for  anything.  She 
was  endowed  with  a  high  intellect,  quick  and  im- 
aginative. She  had  learned  the  Greek  language 
very  rapidly  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  on  account 
of  the  Byzantine  proposal.  Latin  inspired  her 
with  a  sort  of  awe,  because  unknown  to  her.  Un- 
known things  easily  impress  us,  while  knowledge 
leads  us  to  judge  things  according  to  their  real 
worth,  which  is  often  much  less  than  we  had  ex- 
pected. The  name  of  Virgil  besides  had  a  certain 
magic  about  it. 

In  that  hour  the  resolution  was  formed  in  Had- 
wig's  heart  to  learn  Latin.    She  had  plenty  of  time 

91 


Ekkehard 

for  this,  and  after  having  cast  another  look  on  her 
neighbor  to  the  left,  she  knew  who  was  to  be  her 
teacher. 

The  dainty  dessert,  consisting  of  peaches,  melons, 
and  dried  figs,  had  vanished  also,  and  the  lively 
conversation  at  the  different  tables  told  of  the  fre- 
quent passing  round  of  the  wine-jug. 

After  the  meal,  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of 
the  order,  a  chapter  out  of  the  lives  of  the  holy 
fathers  had  to  be  read,  for  general  edification. 

The  day  before,  Ekkehard  had  begun  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  life  of  St.  Benedict,  which  had  been 
written  by  Pope  Gregory.  The  brothers  drew  the 
tables  closer  together;  the  wine-jug  came  to  a  dead 
stop,  and  all  conversation  was  hushed.  Ekkehard 
continued  with  the  second  chapter:  "'One  day 
when  he  was  alone,  the  Tempter  approached  him; 
for  a  small  black  bird,  commonly  called  a  crow, 
came  and  constantly  flew  around  his  head,  and  ap- 
proaching so  near  that  the  holy  man  might  have 
captured  it  with  his  hand.  He,  however,  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  and  the  bird  flew  away. 

"  'No  sooner,  however,  had  the  bird  flown  away 
than  a  fiercer  temptation  than  the  holy  man  had 
ever  yet  experienced  assailed  him.  A  considerable 
time  before  he  had  beheld  a  certain  woman.  This 
woman  the  Evil  One  caused  to  appear  before  his 
mental  eyes,  and  to  influence  the  heart  of  God's 
servant  to  such  a  degree  that  a  devouring  love 

92 


Ekkehard 

gnawed  at  his  heart,  and  he  almost  resolved  to  leave 
his  hermit  life,  so  strong  was  the  longing  and  desire 
within  him. 

"  'But  at  that  moment  a  light  from  heaven 
shone  on  him,  compelling  him  to  return  to  his 
better  self.  And  he  beheld  on  one  side  a  hedge  of 
brambles  and  nettles,  and  he  undressed  and  threw 
himself  into  the  thorns  and  stinging  nettles  until 
his  whole  body  was  lacerated. 

"  'And  thus  the  wounds  of  the  skin  had  healed 
the  wound  of  the  spirit,  and  having  conquered  sin 
he  was  saved.  .    .    .'  " 

Dame  Hadwig  was  not  greatly  edified  by  this 
lecture.  She  let  her  eyes  wander  about  in  the  hall 
in  search  of  something  to  divert  her  thoughts.  Had 
the  chamberlain,  perhaps,  also  disapproved  of  the 
choice  of  the  chapter,  or  had  the  wine  got  into  his 
hpad?  for  suddenly  he  dashed  at  the  book  and 
closing  it  vehemently,  so  that  the  wooden  covers 
clapped  audibly,  he  held  up  his  beaker,  saying: 
"To  the  health  of  St.  Benedict."  Ekkehard  turned 
a  reproachful  look  on  him,  but  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  brotherhood,  regarding  the  toast  as 
serious,  had  already  echoed  it  noisily.  Here  and 
there  a  hymn  in  praise  of  the  holy  man  was  begun; 
this  time  to  the  tune  of  a  merry  drinking-song,  and 
loud,  joyous  voices  rang  through  the  hall. 

While  Abbot  Cralo  looked  about  with  a  some- 
what dubious  expression,  and  Master  Spazzo  was 

93 


Ekkehard 

still  busily  drinking  to  the  health  of  the  saint  with 
the  younger  clergy,  Dame  Hadwig  inclined  her 
head  toward  Ekkehard  and  said  in  a  half  whisper: 
"Would  you  be  willing  to  teach  me  Latin,  young  ad- 
mirer of  the  classics,  if  I  felt  inclined  to  learn  it?" 

Then  Ekkehard  heard  an  inner  voice,  whisper- 
ing like  an  echo  of  what  he  had  read :  "Throw  thy- 
self into  the  thorns  and  nettles,  and  say  no!" — ^but 
heedless  of  the  warning  voice  he  replied:  "Com- 
mand, and  I  obey." 

The  Duchess  gazed  once  more  on  the  young 
monk  with  a  furtive,  searching  look;  then  turned 
to  the  Abbot  and  talked  of  indifferent  things. 

The  cloister  inmates  did  not  seem  inclined  as  yet 
to  let  this  day's  unusual  liberty  end  here.  In  the 
Abbot's  eyes  there  was  a  peculiarly  soft  and  lenient 
expression,  and  the  cellarer  also  never  said  "nay" 
when  the  brothers  descended  with  their  empty 
wine-jugs  into  the  vaults  below. 

At  the  fourth  table  old  Tutilo  began  to  get  jolly, 
and  was  telling  his  inevitable  story  of  the  rob- 
bers. Louder  and  louder  his  powerful  voice  rang 
through  the  hall:  "One  of  them  turned  to  fly — I 
after  him  with  my  oaken  stick — he  throws  away 
spear  and  shield  to  the  ground — I  quickly  seize 
him  by  the  throat,  force  the  spear  into  his  hand 
and  cry:  'Thou  knave  of  a  robber,  for  what  art 
thou  encumbering  the  world?  Thou  shalt  fight 
with  me!'  ".    .    . 

94 


Ekkehard 

But  they  had  all  heard  it  too  often  already  how 
he  had  then  in  honest  fight  split  open  the  skull  of 
his  antagonist — so  they  eagerly  requested  him  to 
sing  some  favorite  song,  and  on  his  giving  an  as- 
senting nod,  some  of  them  hurried  out,  presently 
to  return  with  their  instruments.  One  of  them 
brought  a  lute,  another  a  violin  with  one  string  only, 
a  third  a  sort  of  dulcimer  with  metal  pegs,  which 
were  played  on  with  a  tuning  key,  and  a  fourth  a 
small  ten-stringed  harp.  This  last  curious-looking 
instrument  was  called  a  psalter,  and  its  three-cor- 
nered shape  was  held  to  be  a  symbol  of  the  Trinity. 

When  the  instruments  were  tuned,  they  gave  him 
his  baton  of  ebony.  Smilingly  the  hoary  artist  re- 
ceived it,  and  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  them  the 
signal  to  play  a  piece  of  music,  which  he  himself 
had  composed  in  his  younger  days.  Gladly  the 
others  listened;  only  Ceroid,  the  steward,  became 
rather  melancholy  on  hearing  the  melodious 
pounds,  for  he  was  just  counting  the  empty  dishes 
and  stone  jugs,  and  like  a  text  to  the  melody  the 
words  vibrated  through  his  mind:  "How  much 
this  one  day  has  swallowed  up  in  goods  and 
money!"  Softly  he  beat  time  with  his  sandal-clad 
foot,  until  the  last  note  had  died  away. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  table  a  silent  guest,  with  a 
pale  olive  complexion  and  black  curls,  was  sitting. 
He  came  from  Italy,  and  had  accompanied  the 
mules  loaded  with  chestnuts  and  oil,  from  Lom- 

95 


Ekkehard 

bardy  over  the  Alp.  In  melancholy  silence,  he 
let  the  floods  of  song  pass  over  him. 

''Well,  Master  Giovanni,"  said  Folkhard,  the 
painter,  "has  the  fine  Italian  ear  been  satisfied? 
The  Emperor  Julianus  once  compared  the  singing 
of  our  forefathers  to  the  screeching  of  wild  birds, 
but  since  that  time  we  have  made  progress.  Did 
it  not  sound  lovelier  in  your  ears  than  the  singing 
of  wild  swans?" 

"Lovelier — than  the  singing  of  swans" — re- 
peated the  stranger  in  dreamy  accents.  Then  he 
arose  and  quietly  stole  away.  Nobody  in  the  mon- 
astery ever  read  what  he  wrote  down  in  his  journal 
that  evening. 

"These  men  on  the  other  side  of  the  Alp,"  he 
wrote,  "when  they  let  their  thundering  voices  rise 
up  to  heaven,  never  can  attain  to  the  sweetness  of 
an  artistic  modulation.  Truly  barbarous  is  the 
roughness  of  their  wine-guzzling  throats,  and 
whenever  they  attempt  by  sinking  and  then  raising 
their  voices  to  attain  a  melodious  softness,  all  na- 
ture shudders  at  the  sound,  and  it  resembles  the 
creaking  of  chariot  wheels  on  frozen  ground " 

Master  Spazzo,  intending  to  end  well  what  he 
had  so  well  begun,  slunk  away  to  the  building  in 
which  Praxedis  and  her  companions  were  installed, 
and  said:  "You  are  to  come  to  the  Duchess,  and 
that  at  once." 

The  maidens  first  laughed  at  his  cowl,  and  then 

96 


Ekkehard 

followed  him  into  the  refectory,  as  there  was  no 
one  to  hinder  their  entrance;  and  as  soon  as  they 
became  visible  at  the  open  door,  a  buzzing  and 
murmuring  began,  and  a  dancing  and  jumping 
seemed  imminent,  such  as  these  walls  had  never 
seen  before. 

Sir  Cralo,  the  Abbot,  however,  looked  at  the 
Duchess,  and  exclaimed :  "My  Lady  Cousin !"  and 
he  said  it  with  such  a  touching,  wobegone  expres- 
sion, that  she  started  up  from  her  reverie.  And 
suddenly  she  looked  with  different  eyes  than  before 
on  the  chamberlain  and  herself,  in  their  monk's 
habits,  as  well  as  on  the  rows  of  carousing  men. 
The  faces  of  the  more  distant  ones  were  hidden  by 
their  projecting  hoods,  and  it  looked  as  if  the  wine 
was  being  poured  down  into  empty  cowls ;  in  short, 
the  scene  with  the  boisterous  music  appeared  to 
her  altogether  like  a  mad  masquerade,  that  had 
lasted  too  long  already. 

So  she  said:  "It  is  time  to  go  to  bed;"  and  then 
went  with  her  retinue  over  to  the  schoolhouse, 
where  she  was  to  rest  that  night. 

"Do  you  know  what  would  have  been  the  reward 
of  dancing?"  asked  Sindolt  of  one  of  his  fellow 
monks,  who  seemed  rather  sorry  at  this  sudden  ter- 
mination of  their  festivity.  He  stared  at  him  in- 
quiringly. Then  Sindolt  made  a  movement  which 
meant  unmistakably  "scourging." 

-■-■"■    97  ": 

Vol.  3  .  (A)— 5 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER  V 

EKKEHARD'S    DEPARTURE 

Early  the  next  morning  the  Duchess  and  her 
attendants  mounted  their  steeds,  to  ride  home- 
ward; and  when  she  declined  all  parting  ceremo- 
nies, the  Abbot  did  not  press  her  to  the  contrary. 
^Therefore  perfect  quiet  reigned  in  the  monastery, 
while  the  horses  were  neighing  impatiently.  Only 
Sir  Cralo  came  over,  knowing  well  what  good 
manners  demanded. 

Two  of  the  brothers  accompanied  him.  One  of 
them  carried  a  handsome  crystal  cup  with  a  finely 
wrought  silver  foot  and  cover,  in  which  many  a 
pretty  bit  of  onyx  and  emerald  was  set.  The  other 
carried  a  small  jug  of  old  wine.  The  Abbot  pour- 
ing out  some  into  the  cup,  then  wished  good  speed 
to  his  cousin,  begging  her  to  drink  the  parting 
draft  with  him,  and  to  keep  the  cup  as  a  small  re- 
membrance. 

In  case  that  the  present  should  not  be  thought 
sufficient,  he  had  still  another  curious  piece  in  the 
background,  which  though  made  of  silver,  had  a 
very  insignificant  appearance,  as  it  bore  close  re- 

98 


Ekkehard 

semblance  to  an  ordinary  loaf  of  bread.  This 
could  be  opened,  and  was  filled  up  to  the  brim  with 
gold  pieces.  Without  there  being  an  absolute  ne- 
cessity for  it,  the  Abbot  did  not  intend  to  mention 
this ;  keeping  it  carefully  hidden  under  his  habit. 

Dame  Hadwig  took  the  proffered  cup,  feigned 
to  drink  a  little  and  then  handing  it  back,  said: 
"Pardon  me,  dear  cousin,  what  shall  a  woman  do 
with  that  drinking-vessel?  I  claim  another  part- 
ing gift.  Did  you  not  speak  of  the  wells  of  wis- 
dom yesterday?  Give  me  a  Virgil  out  of  your 
library!" 

"Always  jesting,"  said  Sir  Cralo,  who  had  ex- 
pected a  more  costly  demand.  "What  good  can 
yirgil  do  you,  as  you  do  not  know  the  language?" 

"As  a  matter  of  course,  you  must  give  me  the 
teacher  with  it,"  seriously  replied  Dame  Hadwig. 

But  the ,  Abbot  shook  his  head  in  sign  of  dis- 
pleasure. "Since  what  time  are  the  disciples  of 
St.  Gallus  given  away  as  parting  gifts?" 

Upon  this  the  Duchess  resumed :  "I  suppose  you 
understand  me.  The  fair-haired  custodian  shall 
be  my  teacher ;  and  three  days  hence,  at  the  latest, 
he  and  the  volume  of  Virgil  shall  make  their 
appearance  at  my  castle!  Mind,  that  the  settle- 
ment of  the  disputed  land  in  the  Rhine  valley,  as 
well  as  the  confirmation  of  the  monastery's  rights, 
are  in  my  hands ;  and  that  I  am  not  disinclined  to 
erect  a  small  cloister  to  the  disciples  of  St.  Gallus, 

99 


Ekkehard 

on  the  rocks  of  the  Hohentwiel.  And  so  farewell, 
Sir  Cousin!" 

Then  Sir  Cralo,  with  a  melancholy  look,  beck- 
oned to  the  serving  monk,  to  carry  the  chalice  back 
to  the  treasury.  Dame  Hadwig  gracefully  ex- 
tended her  right  hand  to  him ;  the  mares  pawed  the 
ground;  Master  Spazzo  took  off  his  hat  with  a 
flourish,  and  the  little  cavalcade  turned  their  backs 
on  the  monastery,  setting  out  on  their  way  home- 
ward. 

From  the  window  of  the  watch-tower,  an  im- 
mense nosegay  was  thrown  into  the  midst  of  the 
parting  guests ;  in  which  there  shone  at  least  half  a 
dozen  sun-flowers,  not  to  mention  innumerable 
asters;  but  nobody  caught  it,  and  the  horses'  hoofs 
passed  over  it. 

In  the  dry  moat  outside  the  gate  the  cloister- 
pupils  had  hidden  themselves.  "Long  life  to  the 
Duchess  of  Suabia!  Hail!  hail! — and  she  must 
not  forget  to  send  us  the  fish !"  was  loudly  shouted 
after  her,  as  a  parting  salutation. 

"He  who  as  reward  for  his  bad  behavior  ob- 
tains three  holidays,  and  the  best  fish  of  the  lake, 
may  well  shout,"  said  Master  Spazzo. 

Slowly  the  Abbot  went  back  to  the  monastery, 
and  as  soon  as  he  got  there,  he  sent  for  Ekkehard 
the  custodian. 

"A  dispensation  has  come  for  you.  You  are  to 
take  a  volume  of  Virgil  to  the  Duchess  Hadwig, 

lOO 


Ekkehard 

and  become  her  teacher.  'The  old  songs  of  Maro 
may  soften  the  Scythian  customs  by  their  lovely 
tunes' — is  written  in  Sidonius.  I  know  that  it  is 
not  your  wish" — Ekkehard  cast  down  his  eyes, 
with  a  heightened  color — "but  we  must  not  offend 
the  mighty  ones  of  this  earth.  To-morrow,  you 
will  set  out  on  your  journey.  'Tis  with  regret 
that  I  lose  you,  for  you  were  one  of  the  best  and 
most  dutiful  here.  The  holy  Gallus  will  not  for- 
get the  service  which  you  are  rendering  him. 
Don't  omit  to  cut  out  the  title-page  of  Virgil,  on 
which  is  written  the  curse  on  him  who  takes  the 
book  away  from  the  monastery." 

That  which  our  hearts  desire,  we  gladly  suffer 
to  be  put  on  us  as  a  duty. 

"The  vow  of  obedience,"  said  Ekkehard, 
"obliges  me  to  do  the  will  of  my  Superior,  without 
fear  or  delay,  without  regret  or  murmur." 

He  bent  his  knee  before  the  Abbot,  and  then 
went  to  his  cell.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had 
been  dreaming.  Since  yesterday,  almost  too  much 
had  occurred  for  him.  It  is  often  so  in  life.  In  a 
long  period,  time  pursues  its  monotonous  way,  but 
when  once  we  come  to  a  turning-point,  then  one 
change  follows  another.  He  prepared  himself  for 
the  journey. 

"What  thou  hast  begun,  leave  unfinished  behind 
thee;  draw  back  thy  hand  from  the  work  it  was 
employed  onj  and  go  away  with  thy  heart  full  of 

lOI 


Ekkehard 

obedience" — he  scarcely  needed  to  remind  himself 
of  this  portion  of  the  rules. 

In  his  cell  lay  the  parchment  leaves  of  a  psalm- 
book,  which  had  been  written  and  illustrated  by 
Folkard's  masterly  hand.  Ekkehard  had  been 
commissioned  to  finish  up  the  first  letter  on  each 
page,  with  the  precious  gold-color  which  the  Ab- 
bot had  lately  bought  from  a  Venetian  merchant; 
and  by  adding  faint  golden  lines  at  the  crowns, 
sceptres,  and  swords,  as  well  as  at  the  borders  of 
the  mantles,  to  give  the  last  touch  to  the  figures. 

He  took  up  parchments  and  colors,  and  brought 
them  over  to  his  companion,  that  he  might  put 
the  finishing  strokes  to  the  work  himself.  Folkard 
was  just  about  to  compose  a  new  picture:  David 
playing  the  lute,  and  dancing  before  the  ark  of  the 
Covenant.  He  did  not  look  up,  and  Ekkehard 
silently  left  the  studio  again. 

After  this  he  bent  his  steps  to  the  library,  there 
to  fetch  the  Virgil,  and  when  he  stood  all  alone  in 
the  high-arched  hall  among  the  silent  parchments  a 
feeling  of  melancholy  came  over  him.  Even  lifeless 
things,  when  one  is  about  to  take  leave  of  them,  seem 
to  possess  something  of  a  soul,  and  to  share  some  of 
the  feelings  which  are  moving  our  own  hearts. 

The  books  were  his  best  friends.  He  knew  them 
all,  and  knew  who  had  written  them.  Some  of  the 
handwritings  reminded  him  of  companions  whom 
death  had  gathered  already. 

I02 


Ekkehard 

"What  will  the  new  life,  which  begins  to-mor- 
row, bring  to  me?"  he  thought,  while  a  solitary 
tear  started  into  his  eye.  At  that  moment  his  gaze 
fell  on  the  small,  metal-bound  glossary,  in  which 
the  holy  Gallus,  not  knowing  the  German  lan- 
guage, had  had  a  translation  of  the  most  familiar 
words  and  sentences  written  down  by  the  priest  of 
Arbon.  Then  Ekkehard  bethought  himself  how 
the  founder  of  the  monastery  had  once  set  out,  with 
so  little  help  and  preparation,  a  stranger  into 
heathen  lands;  and  how  his  God  and  his  coura- 
geous heart  had  protected  him  in  all  dangers  and 
sorrows.  His  spirits  rose ;  he  kissed  the  little  book, 
took  the  Virgil  from  the  book-shelf,  and  then 
turned  to  go. 

"Whoever  carries  away  this  book  shall  receive 
a  thousand  lashes  of  the  scourge;  may  palsy  and 
leprosy  attack  him" — ^was  written  on  the  title- 
page. 

Ekkehard  cut  it  out. 

Once  more  he  looked  around,  as  if  to  take  a 
final  leave  of  all  the  books.  At  that  moment  a 
rustling  was  heard  in  the  wall,  and  the  large  sketch 
which  the  architect  Gerung  had  once  drawn,  when 
Abbot  Hartmuth  had  wanted  a  new  building  to  be 
added  to  the  monastery,  fell  to  the  ground,  raising 
a  cloud  of  dust. 

Ekkehard  did  not  regard  this  occurrence  in  the 
light  of  a  presentiment  or  warning. 

103 


Ekkehard 

On  walking  along  the  passage  of  the  upper  story, 
he  passed  an  open  chamber.  This  was  the  snug- 
gery of  the  old  men.  The  blind  Thieto,  who  had 
been  Abbot  before  Cralo,  until  his  waning  eye- 
sight had  forced  him  to  resign,  was  sitting  there. 
A  window  was  open,  so  that  the  old  man  could 
breathe  freely  and  enjoy  the  warm  sunny  air. 
With  him  Ekkehard  had  spent  many  an  hour  in 
friendly  converse.  The  blind  man  recognized  hisf 
step  and  called  him  in. 

'''Where  are  you  going?'*  asked  he. 

''Downstairs — and  to-morrow  I  am  going  far 
away.  Give  me  your  hand,  I  am  going  to  the  Ho- 
hentwiel." 

"Bad — very  bad,"  muttered  the  old  man. 

"Why,  Father  Thieto?" 

"The  service  of  women  is  an  evil  thing  for  him 
who  wishes  to  remain  good.  Court  service  is  worse 
still.    What,  then,  are  both  together?" 

"It  is  my  fate,"  said  Ekkehard. 

"St.  Gallus  keep  you  and  bless  you.  I  will  pray 
for  you.    Give  me  my  stick." 

Ekkehard  offered  his  arm,  which  was  refused, 
however,  and  seizing  his  staff,  the  blind  man  rose, 
and  went  to  a  niche  in  the  wall,  from  which  he 
took  out  a  small  phial  and  gave  it  to  Ekkehard. 

"It's  water  from  the  river  Jordan,  which  I  took 
myself.  When  the  dust  of  this  world  has  covered 
your  face,  and  is  dimming  your  eyes,  then  bathe 

jf04 


Ekkehard 

them  with  it.  It  will  not  help  me  any  more.  Fare- 
well." 

In  the  evening  Ekkehard  mounted  the  little  hill 
which  rose  behind  the  monastery.  This  was  his 
favorite  walk.  In  the  fish-ponds  which  had  been 
artificially  made  there,  to  supply  the  necessary  fish 
for  the  fast-days,  the  dark  fir-trees  were  reflected. 
A  gentle  breeze  ruffled  the  surface  of  the  water,  in 
which  the  fish  swam  briskly  about.  With  a  smile 
he  gazed  at  them,  thinking,  "When  shall  I  taste 
you  again?" 

In  the  fir-wood  on  the  top  of  the  Freudenberg 
there  was  solemn  silence.  There  he  stopped  to 
enjoy  the  extensive  view  before  him. 

At  his  feet  lay  the  monastery,  with  all  its  build- 
ings and  walls.  There,  in  the  courtyard,  was  the 
well-known  fountain;  the  garden  was  full  of  au- 
tumnal flowers,  and  in  one  long  row  the  windows 
of  the  many  cells  were  presented  to  his  view.  He 
knew  each  one,  and  saw  also  his  own.  ''May  God 
protect  thee,  peaceful  abode!" 

Contemplating  the  place  where  we  have  spent 
the  days  of  our  eager  and  striving  youth  works  like 
a  magnet  on  our  hearts,  which  require  so  little  to 
feel  attracted.  He  only  is  poor  to  whom  the  great 
bustling  life  of  this  world  has  not  granted  time, 
bodily  and  mentally,  to  find  a  quiet  resting-place — 
a  real  home. 

Ekkehard  raised  his  eyes.    Far  away  in  the  dis- 

"  ■    ■        ■   105  -\    ■.;:^ 


Ekkehard 

tance,  like  the  fair  prospect  of  a  distant  future,  the 
Bodensee's  placid  surface  shone  out  like  a  mirror. 
The  line  of  the  opposite  shore,  as  well  as  the  out- 
lines of  the  hills  behind  it,  were  covered  with  a 
light  mist,  only  here  and  there  a  bright  light  and 
the  reflection  in  the  water  indicating  the  dwelling- 
places  of  human  beings. 

"But  what  does  the  obscurity  behind  mean?" 
He  turned  round  and  beheld  the  Sentis  rising  with, 
its  horns  and  pinnacles  behind  the  fir-clad  hills. 
On  the  gray  and  weatherbeaten  rocky  walls  the 
warm  sunbeams  were  contending  with  the  clouds, 
and  lighting  up  the  masses  of  old  snow,  which  in  its 
caves  and  crevices  lay  awaiting  a  new  winter. 
Right  over  the  Kamor  hung  a  heavy  cloud,  which, 
widely  extended,  was  obscuring  the  sun  and  throw- 
ing a  gray  and  sombre  light  on  the  mountain- 
peaks  around.  Flashes  of  lightning  were  visible 
in  the  distance. 

"Is  that  meant  as  a  warning  for  me?"  said  Ekke- 
hard. "I  don't  understand  it.  My  way  is  not 
toward  the  Sentis."    • 

Full  of  thoughts,  he  descended  to  the  valley 
again. 

In  the  night  he  prayed  at  the  grave  of  St.  Gallus, 
and  early  in  the  morning  he  bade  good-by  to  all. 
The  volume  of  Virgil  and  the  little  bottle  of  Thieto 
were  packed  up  in  his  knapsack,  which  also  held 
the  few  things  besides  that  he  possessed. 

io6 


Ekkehard 

He  who  has  not  even  his  own  person,  his  wishes 
and  his  desires  at  his  free  disposal,  can  still  less 
have  any  worldly  possessions  and  goods. 

The  Abbot  gave  him  two  gold-pieces  and  some 
silver  coins  as  a  traveling  penny. 

In  a  ship,  laden  with  corn,  he  crossed  the  lake ; 
a  favorable  wind  filling  the  sail,  and  courage  and 
the  love  of  travel  swelling  his  bosom. 

At  dinner-time  the  castle  of  Constance,  as  well 
as  the  cathedral  with  its  towers,  became  more  and 
more  distinct. 

With  a  joyous  bound  Ekkehard  sprang  on  shore. 
In  Constance  he  might  have  stopped  and  claimed 
the  hospitality  of  the  Bishop,  but  this  he  did  not 
do.  The  place  was  disagreeable  to  him ;  he  hated 
it  from  the  bottom  of  fiis  heart.  Not  on  account  of 
its  position  and  scenery,  for  in  that  respect  it  may 
be  boldly  compared  with  any  town  on  the  lake,  but 
on  account  of  a  man  whom  he  detested. 

This  was  the  Bishop  Salomon,  who  had  been 
lately  buried  with  great  pomp  in  the  cathedral. 
Ekkehard  was  a  simple-minded,  straightforward 
and  pious  man.  To  become  proud  and  overbear- 
ing in  the  service  of  the  church  seemed  very  wrong 
to  him;  to  combine  this  with  worldly  tricks  and 
knavery,  highly  blamable ;  and  in  spite  of  wicked- 
ness of  heart,  to  become  famous,  most  strange. 
Such,  however,  had  been  the  Bishop  Salomon's 
career.    Ekkehard  well  remembered  having  heard 

107 


Ekkehard 

from  older  companions  how  the  young  nobleman 
had  forced  his  way  into  the  monastery  and  acted  as 
a  spy;  how  he  had  managed  to  represent  himself  as 
indispensable  to  the  Emperor,  until  the  mitre  of  an 
Abbot  of  St.  Gall  was  exchanged  for  that  of  a 
Bishop  of  Constance. 

And  the  fate  which  had  befallen  the  messengers 
of  the  exchequer — that  was  related  by  the  children 
in  the  streets.  These  the  intriguing  prelate  had 
provoked  and  insulted  so  long,  till  they,  trying  to 
right  themselves  with  the  sword,  had  made  him 
prisoner;  but  though  Sir  Erchanger's  wife  Berchta 
tended  and  nursed  him  like  a  lord  during  his  cap- 
tivity, and  begged  him  for  the  kiss  of  peace,  and 
ate  out  of  the  same  plate  with  him,  his  revenge 
was  not  appeased  until  the  Emperor's  court  of 
law,  at  Adingen,  condemned  his  enemies  to  be 
beheaded. 

And  the  daughter  which  he  had  begotten  in  the 
early  days  of  his  student  life  was  even  then  Lady 
Abbess  at  the  cathedral  in  Zurich. 

All  this  was  known  to  Ekkehard;  and  in  the 
church  where  that  man  was  buried  he  did  not  like 
to  pray. 

It  may  be  unjust  to  transfer  the  hatred  which 
is  intended  for  a  Human  being  alone  to  the  actual 
spot  where  he  has  lived  and  died,  but  still  one  can 
understand  this  feeling.  So  he  shook  the  dust 
from  his  feet,  and  walked  out  of  the  city  gate,  leav- 

io8 


Ekkehard 

ing  the  stripling  Rhine,  having  but  just  issued 
from  the  lake,  on  his  right  hand. 

He  cut  for  himself  a  strong  walking-stick  from 
a  hazel-bush.  "Like  unto  the  rod  of  Aaron  which 
budded  in  the  temple  of  God,  distinguishing  his 
race  from  that  of  the  degenerate  Jews,  so  may  this 
stick,  blessed  by  God's  grace,  be  my  protection 
against  the  evil  ones  on  my  way,"  he  said,  in  the 
words  of  an  old  blessing  on  walking-sticks. 

His  heart  beat  with  pleasure,  as  he  briskly 
walked  along. 

How  full  of  hope  and  joy  he  is  who  in  the  days 
of  his  youth  goes  out  on  unknown  paths  to  meet 
an  unknown  future.  With  the  wide  world  before 
him,  a  blue  sky  overhead,  and  the  heart  fresh  and 
trusting,  as  if  his  walking-stick  must  produce 
leaves  and  blossoms  wherever  he  plants  it  in  the 
ground,  and  must  bear  happiness  in  the  shape  of 
golden  apples  on  its  boughs.  Walk  merrily  on. 
The  day  will  come  when  thou  also  wilt  drag  thy- 
self wearily  along  on  the  dusty  highroads,  when 
thy  staff  will  be  but  a  dry  withered  stick,  when  thy 
face  will  be  pale  and  worn,  and  the  children  will 
be  pointing  their  fingers  at  thee,  laughing  and  ask- 
ing: Where  are  the  golden  apples? 

Ekkehard  was  truly  light-hearted  and  content. 
fTo  sing  merry  songs  was  not  becoming  for  a  man 
of  his  calling;  more  fitting  was  the  song  of  David 
which  he  now  began: 

109 


Ekkehard 

"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  shall  not  want. 
He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures:  he 
leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters;"  and  this  may 
have  been  registered  in  heaven  in  the  same  book 
in  which  the  guardian  angels  of  youth  put  down 
the  merry  songs  of  wandering  scholars  and  ap- 
prentice boys. 

His  path  took  him  through  meadows  and  past 
high  reeds.  A  long  and  narrow  island,  called 
Reichenau,  extended  itself  in  the  lake.  The  towers 
and  cloister-walls  were  mirrored  in  the  placid 
waters,  and  vineyards,  meadows,  and  orchards  tes- 
tified to  the  industry  of  the  inhabitants.  About 
two  hundred  years  ago  the  island  was  but  a  barren 
tract,  where  damp  ground  had  been  inhabited  by 
hideous  crawling  things  and  poisonous  snakes. 
The  Austrian  Governor  Sintlaz,  however,  begged 
the  wandering  Bishop  Pirminius  to  come  over,  and 
to  pronounce  a  solemn  blessing  on  the  island. 
Then  the  snakes  went  away  in  great  masses,  headed 
by  the  scolopendras,  earwigs,  and  scorpions;  toads 
and  salamanders  bringing  up  the  rear.  Nothing 
could  resist  the  curse  which  the  Bishop  had  pro- 
nounced over  them.  To  the  shore,  on  the  spot 
where  afterward  the  castle  of  Schopfeln  was  built, 
the  swarm  directed  its  course,  and  from  thence 
they  fell  down  into  the  green  floods  of  the  lake; 
and  the  fish  had  a  good  meal  on  that  day. 

From  that  time  the  monastery  founded  by  St. 

no 


Ekkehard 

Pirminius  had  thriven  and  flourished,  a  hot-bed 
of  monastic  erudition  of  considerable  repute  in 
German  lands. 

"Reichenau,   emerald   isle,   thou  favorite   child  of  kind 

nature, 
Rich  with  the  laws  of  science,  and  all  that  is  pious  and 

godly. 
Rich  in  thy  fruit-bearing  trees,  and  the  swelling  grapes 

of  thy  vine3^ards; 
Proudly,  and  fair  from  the  waves,  the  lily  lifts  its  white 

petals. 
So  that  thy  praise  has  e'^en  reached  the  misty  land  of  the 

Britons." 

Thus  sang  the  learned  monk  Ermenrich  already 
in  the  days  of  Ludwig  the  German,  when  in  his 
abbey  of  EUwangen  he  was  longing  for  the  glitter- 
ing waters  of  the  Bodensee. 

Ekkehard  resolved  to  pay  a  visit  to  this  rival  of 
his  monastery.  On  the  white  sandy  shore  of  Er- 
matingen  a  fisherman  was  standing  in  his  boat, 
baling  out  water.  Then  Ekkehard,  pointing  with 
his  staff  toward  the  island,  said:  "Ferry  me  over 
there,  my  good  friend." 

The  monk's  habit  in  those  days  generally  gave 
weight  to  all  demands,  but  the  fisherman  crossly 
shook  his  head  and  said :  "I  will  not  take  any  more 
of  you  over,  since  you  fined  me  a  shilling  at  the 
last  session-day." 

Ill 


Ekkehard 

''Why  did  they  fine  you?" 

''On  account  of  the  KreuzmannI" 

''And  who  is  the  Kreuzmann?" 

"The  AUmann." 

"He  likewise  is  unknown  to  me,"  said  Ekkehard. 
"What  is  he  like?" 

"He  is  made  of  metal,"  grumbled  the  fisherman, 
"two  spans  high,  and  holds  three  water-lilies  in 
his  hand.  He  was  standing  in  the  old  willow  tree 
at  AUmannsdorf ,  and  it  was  good  that  he  stood 
there;  but  at  the  last  session  they  took  him  out  of 
the  tree,  and  carried  him  into  their  cloister.  So 
now  he  stands  on  that  Italian  bishop's  grave  at 
Niederzell.  What  good  does  he  do  there?  Does 
he  help  dead  saints  to  catch  fish?" 

Then  Ekkehard  perceived  that  the  fisherman's 
Christian  faith  was  as  yet  not  very  strong;  and  also 
why  the  bronze  idol  had  cost  him  a  shilling  fine. 
He  had  sacrificed  a  kid  to  him  at  night-time,  in 
order  that  his  nets  might  be  well  filled  with  carp, 
trout,  and  perch ;  and  the  authorities  had  punished 
these  heathenish  memories  according  to  the  impe- 
rial laws. 

"Be  sensible,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Ekkehard, 
"and  try  to  forget  the  Allmann.  I  will  restore  you 
a  good  part  of  your  shilling  if  you  will  row  me 
over." 

"What  I  say,"  replied  the  old  man,  "shall  not 
be    turned    round    like    a    ring  on    a   finger.     I 

112 


Ekkehard 

will  take  none  of  you.  My  boy  may  do  it  if  he 
likes."  - 

He  then  whistled  through  his  fingers,  which 
brought  his  boy,  a  tall  boatman,  who  undertook  to 
row  him  over. 

When  Ekkehard  landed,  he  directed  his  steps 
toward  the  monastery,  which,  hidden  between 
fruit-trees  and  vine-clad  hills,  stands  in  the  middle 
of  the  island. 

The  autumn  was  already  advanced,  and  both 
old  and  young  were  occupied  with  the  vintage. 
Here  and  there  the  hood  of  a  serving  brother  stood 
out  in  dark  contrast  to  the  red  and  yellow  vine- 
leaves.  On  the  watch-tower  the  fathers  of  the 
monastery  stood  assembled  in  groups,  looking 
down,  and  taking  pleasure  in  the  busy  crowd  of 
grape-gatherers  below.  In  a  large  marble  vase, 
which  was  believed  to  be  one  of  the  identical  ves- 
sels used  at  the  marriage  at  Cana,  the  new  wine 
had  been  carried  about  in  the  procession  to  receive 
the  blessing.  Merry  shouts  and  singing  were  heard 
from  all  sides. 

Unobserved,  Ekkehard  reached  the  monastery, 
and  when  he  was  but  a  few  steps  from  it  he  per- 
ceived the  heavy  tower  with  its  vestibule,  the 
arches  of  which  are  ornamented  alternately  with 
red  and  gray  sandstone. 

In  the  court  all  was  hushed  and  silent.  A  large 
dog  wagged  its  tail  at  the  stranger  without  giving 


Ekkehard 

a  single  growl,  for  it  knew  better  than  to  bark  at  a 
monk's  habit.  All  the  brotherhood  seemed  to  have 
been  enticed  into  the  open  air  by  the  beautiful 
weather. 

Ekkehard  now  entered  the  vaulted  room  for  vis- 
itors, near  the  entrance.  Even  the  doorkeeper's 
chamber  next  to  it  was  empty.  Open  tuns  were 
standing  about,  some  filled  already  with  the  newly 
pressed  wine.  Behind  these,  near  the  wall,  was  a 
stone  bench,  and  Ekkehard,  feeling  tired  from  his 
long  w^alk,  the  fresh  breeze  having  blown  about 
his  head  and  made  him  sleepy,  he  put  his  staff 
against  the  wall,  lay  down  on  the  bench,  and  soon 
fell  asleep.  I 

As  he  lay  thus,  a  slow  step  approached  the  cool 
recess.  This  was  the  worthy  brother  Rudimann, 
the  cellarer.  He  carried  a  small  stone  jug  in  his 
right  hand,  and  had  come  to  fulfil  his  duty  by 
tasting  the  new  wine.  The  smile  of  a  man  con- 
tented with  himself  and  with  the  world  was  on  his 
lips ;  and  his  belly  had  thriven  well,  like  the  house- 
hold of  an  industrious  man.  Over  this  he  wore  a 
white  apron,  and  at  his  side  dangled  a  ponderous 
bunch  of  keys. 

"As  cellarer  shall  be  chosen  some  wise  man  of 
ripe  judgment,  sober,  and  no  glutton ;  no  quarreler 
or  fault-finder,  no  idler  and  no  spendthrift;  but  a 
pious  man,  who  will  be  to  the  whole  brotherhood 
like  a  father."    And  as  far  as  the  weakness  of  the 

114  I 


Ekkehard 

flesh  allowed  this,  Rudimann  strove  to  unite  in 
himself  the  above-mentioned  qualities.  At  the  same 
time  he  had  to  perform  the  unpleasant  duty  of  car- 
rying out  the  punishments,  and  whenever  one  of 
the  brothers  became  liable  to  a  flogging  he  tied 
him  to  the  pillar,  and  nobody  could  then  complain 
of  the  weakness  of  his  arm.  That  he,  besides  this, 
sometimes  uttered  malicious  speeches  with  a  ma- 
licious tongue,  and  tried  to  entertain  the  Abbot 
with  insinuations  against  his  fellow-monks — like 
the  squirrel  Ratatoskr  of  the  Edda,  which  ran  up 
and  down  the  asK  tree  called  Yggdrasil,  and  re- 
peated the  eagle's  angry  speeches  at  the  top  of  the 
tree  to  Niddhogre,  the  dragon,  at  the  bottom — this 
was  none  of  his  business,  and  he  did  it  of  his  own 
free  will. 

To-day,  however,  he  wore  a  very  benign  and 
mild  expression,  the  result  of  the  excellent  vintage ; 
and  he  dipped  his  drinking  vessel  into  an  open  vat, 
held  it  toward  the  window,  and  then  slowly  sipped 
its  contents,  without  observing  the  sleeping  guest. 

"This  also  is  sweet,"  said  he,  "though  it  comes 
from  the  northern  side  of  the  hill.  Praised  be  the 
Lord,  who,  taking  the  position  and  wants  of  his 
servants  on  this  island  into  due  consideration,  has 
given  a  fat  year  after  so  many  meagre  ones." 

Meanwhile  Kerhildis,  the  upper  maid-servant, 
passed  the  door,  carrying  a  tub  full  of  grapes  to 
the  press. 

115  >       - 


Ekkehard 

"Kerhildis,"  whispered  the  cellarer,  "most  trust- 
worthy of  all  maids,  take  my  jug,  and  fill  it  with 
wine  from  the  Wartberg,  which  you  will  find  over 
there,  that  I  may  compare  it  with  this  one."        ' 

Kerhildis  put  down  her  load,  went  away,  and 
speedily  returning,  stood  before  Rudimann  with 
the  jug  in  her  hand.  Archly  looking  up  at  him, 
for  he  was  a  head  taller  than  she  was,  she  said :  "To 
your  health." 

Rudimann  took  a  long,  pious  draft  as  a  taste,  so 
that  the  new  wine  ran  down  his  throat,  with  a  low 
melodious  gurgle.  - 

"It  will  all  be  sweet  and  good,"  said  he,  lift- 
ing his  eyes  with  emotion,  and  that  they  then  fell 
on  the  maid-servant's  beaming  countenance  was 
scarcely  the  cellarer's  fault,  as  she  had  had  plenty 
of  time  in  which  to  retire.  ' 

So  he  continued  with  unction :  "But  when  I  look 
at  thee,  Kerhildis,  my  heart  becomes  doubly  glad, 
for  you  also  thrive  as  the  cloister-wine  does  this 
autumn,  and  your  cheeks  are  like  the  pomegranates, 
waiting  to  be  plucked.  Rejoice  with  me  over  the 
goodness  of  this  wine,  best  of  all  maids." 

So  saying,  the  cellarer  put  his  arm  round  the 
waist  of  the  dark-eyed  maid,  who  did  not  resist 
very  long;  for  what  is  a  kiss  at  vintage-time? — and 
besides  she  knew  Rudimann  to  be  a  man  of  sober 
character,  who  did  everything  in  moderation,  as  it 
befitted  a  cellarer. 

ii6 


Ekkehard 

The  sleeper  started  up  from  his  slumbers  on  the 
stone  bench.  A  peculiar  noise,  which  could  be 
caused  by  nothing  else  but  by  a  well-meant  and 
well-applied  kiss,  struck  his  ear;  and  looking 
through  the  opening  between  the  vats,  he  saw  the 
cellarer's  garments  covered  with  flowing  tresses, 
which  could  not  well  belong  to  that  habit.  Up  he 
sprang,  for  Ekkehard  was  young  and  zealous,  and 
moreover  accustomed  to  the  strict  discipline  of  St. 
Gall.  The  idea  that  a  man  in  the  holy  garb  of  the 
order  could  kiss  a  woman  had  never  struck  him  as 
possible  before. 

Snatching  up  his  strong  hazel-wand,  he  quickly 
advanced,  and  with  it  struck  a  powerful  blow  at 
the  cellarer,  which  extended  from  the  right  shoul- 
der to  the  left  hip,  and  which  fitted  like  a  coat 
made  according  to  measure;  and  before  the  aston- 
ished Rudimann  had  recovered  from  the  first 
shock,  there  followed  a  second  and  third  blow  of 
the  same  description.  He  dropped  his  pitcher, 
which  was  shattered  to  pieces  on  the  stone  floor, 
while  Kerhildis  fled. 

"In  the  name  of  the  pitcher  at  the  marriage  at 
Cana!"  cried  Rudimann,  "what  is  the  meaning  of 
this!"  and  turning  round  on  his  assailant,  the  two 
looked  into  each  other's  face  for  the  first  time. 

"  'Tis  a  present  which  the  holy  Gallus  sends  to 
St.  Pirminius,"  replied  Ekkehard  fiercely,  again 
raising  his  stick. 

117 


Ekkehafd 

"Well,  I  might  have  guessed  as  much,"  roared 
the  cellarer,  "St.  Gallish  crab-apples  I  You  may 
be  recognized  by  your  fruits.  Rough  ground, 
rough  faith,  and  rougher  people!  Just  wait  for 
the  present ;  I  shall  make  thee  in  return  1" 

Looking  about  for  some  weapon,  and  perceiv- 
ing a  good-sized  broom,  he  took  it  up,  and  was 
just  about  to  attack  the  disturber  of  his  peace,  when 
a  commanding  voice  called  out  from  the  gate : 

"Stop!  Peace  be  with  you!"  And  a  second 
voice  with  a  foreign  accent  exclaimed:  "What 
Holofernes  has  sprung  out  of  the  ground  here?" 

It  was  the  Abbot  Wazmann,  who  with  his  friend 
Simon  Bardo,  the  former  commander  of  the  Greek 
Emperor's  body-guard,  was  returning  from  bless- 
ing the  new  wine.  The  noise  of  the  quarrel  had 
interrupted  a  very  learned  discussion  of  the  Greek 
on  the  siege  of  the  town  of  Hai  by  Joshua  and  the 
strategic  mistakes  of  the  King  of  Hai  when  he  went 
out  at  the  head  of  his  army  toward  the  desert.  The 
old  Greek  commander,  who  had  left  his  home,  not 
to  lose  his  strength  of  body  and  mind,  in  the  peace- 
ful state  of  Byzantium,  employed  himself  very 
zealously  with  the  study  of  tactics  in  his  leisure 
hours;  and  he  was  jestingly  called  "the  Captain 
of.  Capernaum,"  although  he  had  adopted  the  garb 
of  the  Order. 

"Make  room  for  the  fight,"  cried  Simon  Bardo, 
who  had  witnessed  with  regret  the  interruption  of 

ii8  ' ! 


Ekkehard 

the  combat  by  the  Abbot.  "In  my  dreams  last 
night  I  saw  a  rain  of  fiery  sparks.  That  means 
fighting." 

But  the  Abbot,  in  whose  eyes  the  self-assumed 
power  of  younger  brothers  was  most  obnoxious, 
commanded  peace,  and  desired  to  hear  the  case 
before  him,  that  he  might  settle  it. 

Then  Rudimann  began  his  tale,  and  kept  back 
nothing.  "A  slight  misdemeanor,"  murmured  the 
Abbot.  "Chapter  forty-six:  of  misbehavior  during 
work-time,  while  gardening  or  fishing,  in  the 
kitchen  or  cellar.  Allemannic  law,  of  that  which 
is  done  to  maids  ...  let  the  antagonist  speak." 

Then  Ekkehard  also  told  what  he  had  wit- 
nessed; and  how  he  had  acted  on  the  impulse  of 
a  just  and  righteous  indignation. 

"This  is  complicated,"  murmured  the  Abbot. 
"Chapter  seventy:  no  brother  shall  dare  to  strike 
a  fellow-brother  without  the  Abbot's  sanction. 
Chapter  seventy-two:  of  that  which  is  becoming 
in  a  monk;  and  which  leads  to  eternal  felicity. 
.  .  .  How  old  are  you?" 

"Twenty-three." 

Then  the  Abbot  seriously  resumed :  "The  quarrel 
is  ended.  You,  brother  cellarer,  may  look  on  the 
blows  received  as  the  just  retribution  for  your  for^ 
getfulness ;  and  you,  stranger,  I  might  well  bid  to 
continue  your  journey,  for  the  laws  say:  When- 
ever a  stranger-monk  enters  a  monastery,  he  shall 

119 


Ekkehard 

i 

be  satisfied  with  everything  he  meets  there,  allow- 
ing himself  only  mild  reproof,  and  not  making 
himself  officious  in  any  way.'  In  consideration  of 
your  youth,  however,  as  well  as  the  blameless  mo- 
tive of  your  action,  you  shall  be  allowed  to  pass  an 
hour's  devotion  at  the  chief  altar  of  our  church,  in 
expiation  of  your  rashness,  and  after  that  you  will 
be  welcome  as  the  guest  of  the  monastery." 

The  Abbot's  sentence  fared  as  many  an  impartial 
judgment  has  fared  before.  Neither  of  the  two 
contestants  was  satisfied.  They  obeyed,  but  they 
were  not  reconciled.  While  Ekkehard  was  per- 
forming his  expiatory  prayers,  many  thoughts  and 
reflections  on  timely  zeal,  good-will,  and  other  peo- 
ple's opinion  thereon  crossed  his  mind.  It  was 
one  of  the  first  lessons  he  learned  from  contact  with 
other  men.  He  returned  to  the  monastery  by  a 
little  side  door. 

What  Kerhildis,  the  upper-maid,  related  that 
evening  to  her  companions,  in  the  sewing-room  at 
Oberzell,  where  they  had  to  make  a  dozen  new 
monk's  habits,  by  the  flickering  light  of  the  pine- 
wood,  was  couched  in  such  very  insulting  terms, 
regarding  the  disciples  of  the  holy  Gallus,  that  it 
had  better  not  be  repeated  here!  i 


I20 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER  VI 

MOENGAL 

While  Ekkehard  was  performing  his  compul- 
sory devotions  in  the  church  at  Reichenau,  Dame 
Hadwig  had  stood  on  the  balcony,  looking  out  into 
the  distance ;  but  not  on  account  of  the  setting  sun, 
for  the  sun  went  to  his  rest  at  her  back,  behind  the 
dark  hills  of  the  Black  Forest,  and  Dame  Hadwig 
looked  with  eager,  expectant  eyes  toward  the  lake, 
and  the  path  which  led  from  it  up  to  the  Hohen- 
twiel.  The  view,  however,  did  not  appear  to  satisfy 
her,  for  when  the  twilight  melted  into  darkness, 
she  went  in  rather  discontented,  ordered  her  cham- 
berlain to  come,  and  conversed  a  long  time  with 
him. 

Early  the  next  morning  Ekkehard  stood  at  the 
threshold  of  the  cloister,  ready  to  continue  his 
journey.  The  Abbot  was  also  up  betimes,  and  was 
taking  a  walk  in  the  garden.  The  serious  look  of 
the  judge  was  no  longer  visible  on  his  face.  Ekke- 
hard said  good-by  to  him.  Then  the  Abbot,  with 
a  meaning  smile,  whispered  in  his  ear:  "Happy 
man,  who  has  to  teach  grammar  to  such  a  fair 

121  ■       _ 

Vol.  3  (A)— 6 


Ekkehard  I 

^       .  .        ■  '  I      ■ 

I  ■  • 

pupil."  These  words  stabbed  Ekkehard  to  the 
heart.  An  old  story  rose  in  his  memory;  for  even 
within  cloister-walls  there  are  evil,  gossiping 
tongues,  and  traditional  stories  which  go  round, 
from  mouth  to  moiith,  , 

"You  are  probably  thinking  of  the  time,"  re- 
plied he  tauntingly,  "when  you  were  instructing 
the  nun  Clotildis  in  the  act  of  dialectics.  Sir 
Abbot."  I 

After  this  he  went  down  to  the  boat.  The  Abbot 
would  much  rather  have  taken  a  quantity  of  pep- 
per for  his  breakfast,  than  have  had  that  fact  called 
up  to  his  mind.  "A  pleasant  journey!"  he  called 
out  after  his  departing  guest. 

From  that  time,  Ekkehard  had  drawn  down  on 
himself  the  enmity  of  the  monks  at  Reichenau. 
This,  however,  he  little  heeded;  and  was  rowed 
down  the  lake,  by  the  same  boatman  of  Ermat- 
ingen. 

Dreamily  he  gazed  about  from  his  boat.  Over 
the  lake  transparent  white  mists  were  floating, 
through  which  the  little  belfry  of  Egina's  cloister, 
Niederzell,  peeped  out  on  the  left,  while  on  the 
other  side  the  island  stretched  out  its  farthest 
points.  A  large  stone-built  castle  could  be  seen 
through  the  willow-bushes,  but  Ekkehard's  eyes 
were  riveted  on  a  more  distant  point.  Proud  and 
grand,  in  steep,  bold  outlines  a  rocky  mountain- 
peak  rose  above  the  hills  on  the  shore,  like  to  a 

122 


Ekkehard 

mighty  spirit,  which,  ponderous  and  pregnant  with 
action,  towers  over  the  insignificant  objects  around. 
The  morning  sun  was  casting  faint  gleams  of  light 
on  the  rocky  edges  and  steep  walls.  A  little  to 
the  right,  several  lower  hills  of  the  same  shape 
stood  modestly  there,  like  sentinels  of  the  mighty 
one. 

"The  Hohentwiel,"  said  the  boatman  to  Ekke- 
hard. The  latter  had  never  before  beheld  the 
place  of  his  destination,  but  he  did  not  need  the 
boatman's  information.  Inwardly  thinking,  "This 
must  be  the  mountain  which  she  has  chosen  for  her 
residence." 

A  deep,  earnest  expression  overspread  his  fea- 
tures. Mountain-ranges, -extensive  plains,  water, 
and  sky,  in  fact  all  that  is  grand  and  beautiful  in 
nature  always  produces  seriousness.  Only  the  ac- 
tions of  men  sometimes  bring  a  smile  to  the  lips  of 
the  looker-on.  He  was  thinking  of  the  apostle 
John,  who  had  gone  to  the  rocky  isle  of  Patmos, 
and  who  had  there  met  with  a  revelation. 

The  boatman  rowed  steadily  onward;  and  they 
had  already  come  to  the  projecting  neck  of  land, 
on  which  Radolfszell  and  a  few  scattered  houses 
were  situated,  when  they  suddenly  came  in  view  of 
a  strange  little  canoe.  It  was  simply  made  of  the 
rough,  hollow  trunk  of  a  tree,  roofed  over  and 
quite  covered  up  with  green  boughs  and  water- 
rushes,  so  that  the  rower  inside  was  invisible.    The 

123 


Ekkehard 

wind  drifted  it  toward  a  thick  plantation  of  water- 
reeds  and  bulrushes  near  the  shore. 

Ekkehard  ordered  his  ferryman  to  stop  this 
curious  little  boat,  and  in  obedience  he  pushed  his 
oar  into  the  green  covering. 

"Ill  luck  befall  you!"  called  out  a  deep  bass 
voice  from  the  inside;  ^' oleum  et  operam  perdidi, 
all  my  labor  lost!  Wild  geese  and  water-ducks 
are  gone  to  the  Devil!" 

A  covey  of  water-fowl,  which  hoarsely  shriek- 
ing rose  up  from  the  rushes,  corroborated  the  truth 
of  this  exclamation. 

After  this,  the  leafy  boughs  were  pushed  aside, 
and  a  brown  weather-beaten  and  deeply  furrowed 
countenance  peeped  out.  The  man  it  belonged  to 
was  clothed  in  an  old  faded  priest's  robe,  which, 
cut  off  at  the  knees  by  an  unskilled  hand,  hung 
down  in  a  ragged  fringe.  At  his  girdle,  the  owner 
of  the  boat  wore,  instead  of  a  rosary,  a  quiver  full 
of  arrows,  while  his  bow  lay  at  the  head  of  the 
boat. 

The  individual  just  described  was  about  to  re- 
peat his  cursing,  when  he  beheld  Ekkehard's 
tonsure  and  Benedictine  garment,  and,  quickly 
changing  his  tone,  he  cried :  "Oho !  salve  confrater! 
By  the  beard  of  St.  Patrick  of  Armagh!  If  your 
curiosity  had  left  me  unmolested  another  quarter 
of  an  hour,  I  might  have  invited  you  to  a  goodly 
repast  of  the  game  of  our  lake."    With  a  melan- 

124 


Ekkehard 

choly  expression  he  cast  a  look  at  the  covey  of  wild 
ducks  in  the  distance. 

Ekkehard  smilingly  lifted  his  forefinger:  "Ne 
clericus  venationi  incumbat!  No  consecrated  ser- 
vant of  God  shall  be  a  sportsman!" 

"Your  book  wisdom  does  not  do  for  us  at  the 
Untersee,"  called  out  the  other.  "Are  you  sent 
hither,  perhaps,  to  hold  a  church  examination  with 
the  parish  priest  of  Radolfszell?" 

"The  parish  priest  of  Radolfszell?"  inquired 
Ekkehard  in  his  turn.  "Do  I  verily  see  the 
brother  Marcellus?"  He  cast  a  side  look  on  the 
sportsman's  right  arm,  from  which  the  sleeve  was 
turned  back,  and  there  beheld,  etched  into  the  flesh, 
in  rough  outline,  a  picture  of  our  Saviour,  en- 
circled by  a  serpent,  over  which  stood  the  words, 
''Christus  mndex.'* 

"Brother  Marcellus?"  laughed  the  other,  push- 
ing his  hair  back  from  his  forehead.  "To  be  sure! 
Welcome  in  Moengal's  realm!" 

He  stepped  out  of  the  canoe  into  Ekkehard's 
boat,  and,  kissing  him  on  cheek  and  forehead,  he 
said:  "Health  to  the  holy  Gallus!  And  now  we 
will  land  together,  and  you  shall  be  my  guest,  even 
without  the  wild  ducks." 

"Of  yourself  I  had  conceived  a  very  different 
idea,"  said  Ekkehard,  and  this  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at. 

Nothing  gives  a  more  erroneous  idea  of  persons, 

125 


Ekkehard 

than  when  we  come  to  the  places  where  they  once 
lived  and  worked,  there  to  see  fragmentary  bits  of 
their  activity;  and  from  the  remarks  of  those  left 
behind,  to  form  in  ourselves  an  impression  of  those 
that  are  gone.  The  deepest  and  most  peculiar  part 
of  the  character  of  a  man  is  frequently  unnoticed 
by  others,  even  though  it  be  open  to  the  day,  and 
in  tradition  it  disappears  entirely. 

When  Ekkehard  had  joined  the  monastery,  the 
brother  Marcellus  had  already  left  it,  to  assume 
the  priest's  office  at  Radolfszell.  Some  neatly  writ- 
ten manuscripts,  such  as  Cicero's  book  on  duty,  and 
a  Latin  Priscianius  with  Irish  characters  between 
the  lines,  still  kept  up  the  remembrance  of  him. 
His  name  too  was  held  in  great  veneration  in  the 
inner  cloister-school,  where  he  had  been  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  teachers.  Besides  this,  he 
had  led  a  blameless  life,  but  since  that  time  noth- 
ing had  been  heard  of  him  at  St.  Gall.  For  these 
reasons,  instead  of  the  lively  sportsman,  Ekkehard 
had  expected  to  find  a  serious,  meagre,  and  pale- 
faced  scholar. 

The  shores  of  Radolfszell  were  soon  reached. 
A  thin  silver  coin,  stamped  on  one  side  only,  satis- 
fied the  boatman,  and  then  the  two  stepped  on 
shore.  A  few  houses  and  a  handful  of  fishermen's 
'huts  surrounded  the  little  church  which  holds  the 
remains  of  St.  Radolf. 

"We  have  reached  Moengal's  dwelling,"  said 

126 


Ekkehard 

the  old  man.  "Be  pleased  to  enter.  "It's  to  be 
hoped  that  you  will  not  carry  tales  about  my  house 
to  the  Bishop  of  Constance,  like  the  deacon  of 
Rheingau,  who  asserted  that  he  found  the  jugs  and 
drinking-horns  of  an  outrageous  size. 

They  entered  into  a  wainscoted  hall.  Stag 
antlers  and  bison-horns  hung  over  the  entrance, 
while  spears  and  fishing-tackle  of  every  description 
ornamented  the  walls  in  picturesque  confusion. 
Close  to  a  reversed  tun  in  one  corner  stood  a  dice- 
box;  in  fact,  if  it  had  not  been  the  abode  of  the 
parish  priest,  it  might  have  been  that  of  an  im- 
perial gamekeeper. 

A  few  moments  later  a  jug  of  somewhat  sour 
wine,  as  well  as  a  loaf  of  bread  and  some  butter, 
were  placed  on  the  oak  table;  and  when  the  priest 
returned  from  an  expedition  to  the  kitchen  he  held 
up  his  habit  like  a  filled  apron,  and  poured  down 
a  shower  of  smoked  fish  before  his  guest. 

^'Heu  quod  anseres  fugasti,  antvogelasque  et 
horotumblum!  Alas  that  you  should  have  fright- 
ened away  the  wild  geese,  as  well  as  the  ducks  and 
moor-fowls!"  said  he,  adding  this  translation  of 
his  primitive  Latin;  "but  when  a  person  has  to 
choose  between  smoked  fish  and  nothing,  he  always 
chooses  the  former." 

Members  of  the  same  fraternity  are  quickly  at 
their  ease  with  each  other;  and  a  lively  conversa- 
tion was  kept  up  during  the  meal.     But  the  old 

127 


Ekkehard 

man  had  far  more  questions  to  put  than  Ekkehard 
could  well  answer.  Of  many  a  one  of  his  former 
brothers  nothing  else  was  to  be  told  but  that  his 
coffin  had  been  laid  in  the  vault,  side  by  side  with 
the  others,  a  cross  on  the  wall,  besides  an  entry  in 
the  death-register,  being  the  sole  trace  left  that 
he  had  ever  lived.  The  stories,  jokes,  and  quarrels 
which  had  been  told  thirty  years  ago  had  been  re- 
placed by  new  ones,  and  all  that  had  happened 
lately  did  not  interest  him  much.  Only  when  Ek- 
kehard told  him  about  the  end  and  aim  of  his  jour- 
ney he  exclaimed :  "Oho,  conf rater!  how  could  you 
cry  out  against  all  sport,  when  you  yourself  aim  at 
such  noble  deer!" 

But  Ekkehard  turned  the  subject  by  asking  him : 
"Have  you  never  felt  any  longing  for  quiet  and 
study  within  cloister-walls?" 

At  that  question  the  parish  priest's  eyes  lighted 
up:  "Did  Catilina  ever  feel  any  longing  for  the 
wooden  benches  of  the  senate  after  they  had  said 
to  him:  excessit,  evasit,  erupit?  Young  men  like 
you  can  not  understand  that.  The  flesh-pots  of 
Egypt?  Ille  ferrarum  mihi  praeter  omnes  .  .  . 
said  the  dog  to  the  kennel,  in  which  he  had  lain 
seven  years." 

"No,  I  certainly  do  not  understand  you,"  replied 
Ekkehard.  "What  was  it  that  created  Buch  a 
change  in  your  views?"  casting  a  look  at  the  sports- 
man's implements,  which  were  lying  about. 

128 


Ekkehard 

"Time,"  replied  the  priest,  beating  his  fish  on 
the  table  to  make  them  tender ;  "time  and  growing 
experience.  But  this  you  need  not  repeat  to  your 
Abbot.  I  also  was  once  such  a  man  as  you  are  now, 
for  Ireland  produces  pious  people,  as  is  well 
known  here.  Eheu!  what  a  different  being  I  was 
when  I  returned  with  my  uncle  Marcus  from  our 
pilgrimage  to  Rome.  You  should  have  seen  the 
young  Moengal  then!  The  whole  world  was  not 
worth  a  herring  to  him,  while  psalm-singing, 
vigils,  and  spiritual  exercises  were  his  heart's  de- 
light. Thus  we  entered  the  monastery  of  St.  Cal- 
lus— for  in  honor  of  a  countryman,  an  honest 
Hibernian  does  not  mind  going  a  few  miles  out  of 
his  way — and  finally  I  stopped  there  altogether. 
Outward  property,  books,  money,  and  knowledge 
— the  whole  man  became  the  monastery's  own,  and 
the  Irish  Moengal  was  called  Marcellus,and  threw 
his  uncle's  silver  and  golden  coins  out  of  the  win- 
dow, thus  to  break  down  the  bridge  leading  back 
to  the  world.  They  were  fine  times  I  tell  you,  pray- 
ing, fasting,  and  studying  to  my  heart's  content." 

"But  then  too  much  sitting  is  unhealthful,  and 
much  knowledge  gives  one  a  quantity  of  super- 
fluous work  to  do.  Many  an  evening  I  have 
meditated  like  a  book-worm,  and  disputed  like  a 
magpie ;  for  there  was  nothing  which  could  not  be 
proved.  Where  the  head  of  St.  John  the  Baptist 
was  buried,  and  in  what  language  the  serpent  had 

129 


Ekkehard 

spoke  to  Adam— all  was  investigated  and  demon- 
strated, while  such  ideas  as  that  human  beings  had 
also  received  flesh  and  blood  from  their  Creator 
never  entered  my  head.  Alas!  conf rater,  then 
there  came  evil  hours  for  me,  such  as  I  hope  may 
be  spared  you.  The  head  grew  heavy,  and  the 
hands  restless.  Neither  at  the  writing-desk  nor  in 
the  church  could  I  find  rest  or  peace:  ^Hence, 
hence!'  was  the  inward  cry  of  my  heart.  I  once 
said  to  the  old  Thieto  that  I  had  made  a  discovery. 
What  discovery?'  quoth  he.  That  outside  the 
cloister-walls  there  was  fresh  air.  .  .  .  Then  they 
forbade  me  to  go  out ;  but  many  a  night  did  I  steal 
up  to  the  belfry,  to  look  out  and  envy  the  bats 
that  could  fly  over  into  the  pine  woods.  .  .  .  Con- 
frater,  that  can  not  be  cured  by  fasting  and  prayer, 
for  that  which  is  in  human  nature  must  come  out. 
"The  late  Abbot  at  last  took  pity  on  me,  and 
sent  me  here  for  one  year;  but  the  Brother  Mar- 
cellus  never  returned.  When  I  cut  down  a  pine 
tree  in  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  made  myself  a 
boat  out  of  it,  and  struck  down  the  bird  flying 
in  the  air,  then  I  began  to  understand  what  it  meant 
to  be  healthy.  Hunting  and  fishing  drive  away 
morbid  fancies.  In  this  way  I  have  performed 
the  priest's  duties  at  Radolfszell  for  thirty  years, 
rusticitafe  quadam  imbufus — liable  to  become  a 
rustic,  but  what  does  it  matter?  *I  am  like  the  pel- 
ican in  the  wilderness,  and,  like  the  owl,  I  have 

130 


Ekkehard 

built  my  nest  amidst  ruins,'  says  the  psalmist ;  but  I 
am  fresh  and  strong,  and  old  Moengal  does  not  in- 
tend to  become  a  dead  man  so  soon,  and  he  knows 
that  he  is  at  least  secure  against  one  evil  .    .    ." 

"And  that  is?"  inquired  Ekkehard. 

"That  St.  Peter  will  not  one  day  give  me  a  blow 
on  the  forehead  with  the  blessed  key  of  heaven, 
saying,  *Oflf  with  you,  who  have  meddled  with  vain 
and  useless  philosophy!' " 

Ekkehard  did  not  reply  to  Moengal's  outpour- 
ings. "I  suppose,"  said  he,  "that  you  have  often 
hard  work  with  your  ecclesiastical  duties.  Hard- 
ened hearts,  heathendom,  and  heresy." 

"  'Tis  not  so  bad  as  they  make  it  out  to  be," 
said  the  old  man.  "To  be  sure  in  the  mouths  of 
Bissops  and  Chamberlains,  and  in  the  reports  of 
the  session  and  the  synod,  it  seems  terrifying 
enough  when  they  describe  the  heathenish  idol- 
atry, and  threaten  it  with  punishment.  Here  we 
have  simply  the  old  faith  tracing  the  Godhead  in 
tree  and  river  and  on  mountain  heights.  Every- 
body in  this  world  must  have  his  book  of  revela- 
tion, his  apocalypse.  Now  the  people  hereabouts 
have  theirs  in  the  open  air;  and  really,  one  is  capa- 
ble of  high  and  holy  thoughts  when,  early  in  the 
morning,  one  stands  in  the  water-reeds  and  sees  the 
glorious  sun  arise.  Nevertheless  they  come  to  me, 
on  the  Lord's  day,  and  chant  the  Mass ;  and  if  they 
were  not  fined  so  often,  they  would  open  their 

131 


Ekkehard 

hearts  to  the  Gospel  far  more  readily  still.    A 
bumper,  conf  rater  ^  to  the  fresh  air  I" 

"Allow  me,"  said  Ekkehard,  "I  will  drink  to  the 
health  of  Marcellus,  the  teacher  at  the  cloister- 
school,  and  the  learned  author  of  the  Irish  trans- 
lation of  *Priscianius.* " 

"Very  well,"  laughed  Moengal.  "But  with  re- 
gard to  the  Irish  translation,  I  am  afraid  that  all 
is  not  as  it  should  be." 

Ekkehard  was  very  anxious  to  reach  his  destina- 
tion, for  anybody  who  is  close  to  the  end  of  his 
journey  is  loth  to  tarry  long.  "The  mountain 
stands  fast  enough,"  said  Moengal;  "that  won't 
run  away,  you  may  be  sure." 

But  Moengal's  wine,  and  his  ideas  of  fresh  air, 
had  nothing  very  tempting  for  him  who  was  about 
to  go  to  a  Duchess.    So  he  rose  from  his  seat. 

"I  will  accompany  you  to  the  borders  of  my 
district,"  said  the  priest,  "for  to-day  you  may  still 
walk  by  my  side,  in  spite  of  my  torn  and  faded 
garments ;  but  when  you  are  once  settled  down  on 
yonder  mountain,  you  will  believe  yourself  trans- 
figured, and  that  you  have  become  a  grand  lord ; 
and  on  the  day  that  you  will  pass  Radolfszell,  and 
will  behold  old  Moengal  standing  on  the  threshold, 
then,  perhaps,  you  will  hardly  deign  to  wave  your 
hand  to  him — that  is  the  way  of  the  world." 

"It  is  not  fair  that  you  should  speak  thus,"  said 
Ekkehard,  kissing  his  Irish  brother. 
*  132 


Ekkehard 

Then  they  set  out  togetEer,  Moengal  taking  his 
lime-twigs  with  him,  therewith  to  ensnare  birds  on 
his  return.  It  was  a  long  distance  through  the 
pine  wood,  and  no  sound  was  stirring. 

Where  the  trees  were  less  crowded  together  they 
could  see  the  dark  mass  of  the  Hohentwiel,  throw- 
ing its  shadow  over  them.  Moengal's  sharp  eyes 
now  looked  searchingly  along  the  path,  and  shak- 
ing his  head,  he  muttered:  "There's  something 
coming." 

They  had  proceeded  a  short  way  when  Moengal 
seized  his  companion's  arm,  and,  pointing  forward, 
he  said:  "These  are  neither  wild  ducks  nor  ani- 
mals of  the  forest!" 

At  the  same  moment  was  heard  a  sound  like  the 
neighing  of  a  horse  in  the  distance.  Moengal 
sprang  aside,  glided  through  the  trees,  and,  lying 
down  on  the  ground,  listened  intently. 

"Sportsman's  fancy,"  muttered  Ekkehard  to 
himself,  quietly  waiting  till  Moengal  came  back 
and  inquired:  "Brother,  do  you  know  whether  St. 
Gallus  is  at  war  with  any  of  the  mighty  ones  in  the 
land?" 

"No." 

"Then  it  may  be  that  you  have  offended  some 
one?" 

"No.'^ 

"Strange,"  said  the  old  man,  ^'for  three  armed 
men  are  coming  toward  us." 

133 


Ekkehard 

"Most  likely  they  are  messengers  sent  by  the 
Duchess  to  receive  me,"  said  Ekkehard,  with  a 
proud  smile. 

"Oho!"  muttered  Moengal,  "you've  not  hit  the 
mark  there.  That  is  not  the  livery  of  the  Duchess's 
vassals.  The  helmet  has  no  distinguishing  mark, 
and  no  one  on  the  Hohentwiel  wears  a  gray 
mantle!" 

He  stood  still  now. 

"Forward,"  said  Ekkehard.  "He  whose  con- 
science is  clear  is  protected  by  the  angels  of  the 
Lord." 

"Not  always,  at  least  in  the  Hegau,"  replied  the 
old  man.  There  was  no  more  time  for  continuing 
the  dialogue,  for  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet  and  the 
clattering  of  arms  was  heard,  and  the  next  moment 
three  men  on  horseback,  with  closed  visors  and 
drawn  swords,  became  visible. 

"Follow  me!"  cried  the  priest;  ''^maturate  fu- 
gamP''  He  threw  his  lime-twigs  on  the  ground, 
and  tried  to  drag  Ekkehard  along  with  him,  but 
when  he  resisted,  Moengal  sprang  into  the  bushes 
alone.  The  thorns  added  new  rents  to  the  old  ones 
in  his  well-worn  garments,  but  this  he  heeded  not, 
and,  tearing  himself  free,  he  escaped  into  the 
thicket  with  the  agility  of  a  squirrel.  He  knew  a 
few  tricks! 

"It  is  he!"  called  out  one  of  the  riders;  upon 
which   the  others  jumped  out  of   their  saddles. 

134 


Ekkehard 

Ekkehard  stood  proudly  waiting  for  them.  "What 
do  you  want?"  No  answer.  Then  he  seized  the 
crucifix  suspended  from  his  girdle,  and  was  just 
beginning  with  "In  the  name  of  our  Saviour"  .  .  . 
when  he  was  already  thrown  on  the  ground. 
Rough,  strong  hands  held  him  as  in  a  vise;  a  cord 
was  twisted  round  his  arms,  which  were,  then  tied 
behind  his  back;  a  white  handkerchief  bound  over 
his  eyes,  so  that  he  could  see  nothing,  and  then 
the  command  "Forward"  was  given. 

Surprise  and  consternation  at  this  strange  treat- 
ment had  quite  paralyzed  him,  so  that  he  advanced 
with  tottering  steps,  upon  which  they  took  him  up, 
and  carried  him  to  the  opening  of  the  wood,  where 
four  men  were  waiting  with  a  sedan-chair. 

Into  this  they  threw  their  victim,  and  then  the 
train  sped  onward;  Ekkehard  noticing  by  the 
tramp  of  the  horses'  feet  that  his  captors  remained 
at  his  side. 

While  Moengal  was  fleeing  through  the  wood, 
the  blackbirds  and  linnets  flew  about  so  confid- 
ingly from  bough  to  bough,  and  the  thrushes'  clear 
notes  sounded  so  tempting,  that  he  forgot  all  dan- 
ger, and  his  heart  upbraided  him  for  having 
dropped  the  lime-twigs. 

When  even  the  quail  now  sang  out  its  "Quak- 
keral  quakkera!"  it  sounded  downright  provoking, 
and  he  turned  his  steps  back  toward  the  spot  where 
he  had  left  his  companion.    Everything  was  quiet 

135 


Ekkehard 

there,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  In  the  distance 
he  could  see  the  sun  shining  on  the  helmets  of  the 
departing  knights. 

"Many  that  are  first  shall  be  last,"  said  he,  shak- 
ing his  head  and  bending  down  to  pick  up  his  lime- 
twigs.  "He  expected  to  go  to  a  princess's  castle, 
and  a  prison  opens  to  receive  him.  Holy  Gallus, 
pray  for  us!" 

Further  reflections  did  not  trouble  Moengal's 
brains.  Such  deeds  of  violence  were  as  plentiful 
as  primroses  in  spring-time. 

Once  a  fish  swam  about  in  the  Lake  of  Con- 
stance, and  could  not  understand  what  the  cor- 
morant meant  by  coming  down  on  it,  and  the  black 
diver  had  already  got  it  in  its  beak,  and  flew  away 
with  it,  and  the  fish  could  still  not  understand  it. 

So  it  was  with  Ekkehard,  lying  with  tied  hands 
in  the  sedan-chair;  for  the  more  he  reflected  about 
this  sudden  change  in  his  fate  the  less  could  he 
comprehend  it. 

Now  the  idea  rose  dimly  within  him  that  some 
friend  or  relation  of  those  messengers  of  the  ex- 
chequer might  live  in  the  Hegau  and  revenge  their 
death  on  the  innocent  disciple  of  St.  Gallus;  for 
Salomon,  who  had  occasioned  their  shameful  ex- 
ecution, had  once  been  Abbot  of  St.  Gall.  In  that 
case,  Ekkehard  had  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
worst;  as  he  well  knew  that  neither  tonsure  nor 
monk's  habit  would  be  any  protection  against  hav- 

136 


Ekkehard 

ing  his  eyes  burned  out  or  hands  cut  off  if  it  was 
a  question  of  revenge. 

He  thought  of  death.  With  his  conscience  he 
was  at  peace,  and  death  itself  had  no  terror  for 
him ;  but  yet  in  his  heart  there  arose  the  faint  mur- 
mur :  "Why  not  a  year  later,  after  I  have  set  foot 
on  the  Hohentwiel?" 

Now  his  bearers  were  moving  more  slowly,  as 
they  were  walking  uphill.  Into  which  of  their 
robbers'  nests  were  they  carrying  him?  They  had 
ascended  for  about  half  an  hour,  when  the  tramp 
of  the  horses'  feet  made  a  hollow  sound,  as  if  they 
were  going  over  a  wooden  bridge.  Still  every- 
thing was  quiet;  there  was  no  call  even  of  the 
watchman  on  the  tower.  The  decisive  moment 
was  close  at  hand,  and  Ekkehard  now  felt  new 
courage  and  confidence  rising  within  his  heart,  as 
he  remembered  the  words  of  the  psalmist: 

"He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most 
High  shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Al- 
mighty. 

"I  will  say  of  the  Lord,  he  is  my  refuge  and 
my  fortress :  my  God ;  in  him  will  I  trust." 

Another  bridge  was  crossed,  then  a  gate  opened 
and  the  sedan-chair  was  put  down;  after  which 
they  took  out  their  prisoner.  His  foot  touched  the 
ground ;  he  felt  grass,  and  heard  a  faint  whisper- 
ing, as  if  there  were  many  people  around  him.  At 
the  same  time  the  cords  were  loosened. 

137 


Ekkehard 

"Take  away  the  bandage  from  your  eyes,"  said 
one  of  his  companions.  He  obeyed,  and — oh, 
heart,  do  not  break  with  too  much  happiness! — - 
he  stood  in  the  courtyard  on  the  Hohentwiel. 

The  wind  was  rustling  in  the  boughs  of  the  old 
linden-tree,  to  which  a  tent-like  linen  cloth  was 
fastened,  from  which  garlands  of  ivy  and  vine- 
leaves  were  hanging.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the 
fortress  were  assembled,  and  on  a  stone  bench  in 
the  midst  sat  the  Duchess.  From  her  shoulders 
the  princely  mantle  of  dark  purple  descended  in 
heavy  folds;  a  sweet  smile  softened  her  haughty 
features,  and  now  the  stately  figure  rose,  and  ad- 
vanced toward  Ekkehard. 

"Welcome  to  Hadwig's  domains!" 

Ekkehard  had  as  yet  scarcely  realized  his  posi- 
tion. He  was  about  to  kneel  down  before  her,  but 
she  prevented  him  by  graciously  extending  her 
hand  to  him.  Throwing  aside  his  gray  mantle, 
the  chamberlain  Spazzo  now  likewise  came  for- 
ward and  embraced  Ekkehard  like  an  old  friend. 

"In  the  name  of  our  gracious  mistress,  please  to 
receive  the  kiss  of  peace." 

A  faint  suspicion  that  he  was  being  played  with 
crossed  Ekkehard's  mind;  but  the  Duchess  now 
called  out  laughingly:  "You  have  been  paid  in 
your  own  coin.  As  you  did  not  allow  the  Duchess 
of  Suabia  to  cross  the  threshold  of  St.  Gallus  other- 
wise, it  was  but  fair  that  she  also  should  have  the 

138 


Ekkehard 

man  of  St.  Gall  carried  through  the  gateway  into 
her  castle." 

Master  Spazzo  again  shook  hands  with  him,  and 
said:  "I  hope  you're  not  angry;  we  were  but  acting 
up  to  our  mistress's  commands!"  He  had  first 
headed  the  attack,  and  was  now  helping  to  wel- 
come Ekkehard,  doing  both  with  the  same  pom- 
pous air,  for  a  chamberlain  must  be  flexible,  and 
even  know  how  to  reconcile  contradictions. 

Ekkehard  smiled.  "For  a  mere  jest,  you  have 
acted  your  part  very  seriously."  He  remembered 
how  one  of  the  riders  had  given  him  a  good  thrust 
between  the  ribs  with  the  butt-end  of  his  lance 
when  they  threw  him  into  the  sedan-chair.  This 
had  certainly  not  been  the  Duchess's  order;  but  the 
lancer  had  once  been  present  when  Luitf  ried,  the 
nephew  of  one  of  the  exchequer's  messengers,  had 
thrown  down  the  Bishop  Salomon;  and  from  that 
time  he  had  kept  the  erroneous  notion  that  a  good 
blow  or  kick  was  absolutely  necessary  to  throw 
down  anybody  belonging  to  the  church. 

Dame  Hadwig  now  took  her  guest  by  the  hand 
and  showed  him  her  airy  castle  with  its  beautiful 
view  of  the  Bodensee  and  the  distant  mountain 
peaks.  Then  all  the  people  belonging  to  the  castle 
came  and  asked  for  Ekkehard's  blessing,  among 
them  also  the  lancers ;  and  he  blessed  them  all. 

The  Duchess  accompanied  him  to  the  entrance 
of  his  chamber,  where  new  clothes  and  other  com- 

139 


Ekkehard 

forts  awaited  him ;  there  she  told  him  to  rest  him- 
self from  the  fatigues  of  the  journey;  and  Ekke- 
hard felt  happy  and  light-hearted  after  his  strange 
adventure. 

The  following  night  it  occurred  in  the  monas- 
tery of  St.  Gall  that  Romeias,  the  gatekeeper, 
started  up  from  his  couch  without  any  reason  and 
fiercely  blew  his  horn,  so  that  the  dogs  barked 
loudly  and  everybody  awoke.  Yet  there  was  no 
one  asking  admittance.  The  Abbot  concluded  that 
it  was  the  doing  of  evil  spirits,  but  at  the  same  time 
ordered  Romeias's  evening  drink  to  be  reduced  to 
one  half  for  six  days — a  measure  which  was,  how- 
ever, based  on  very  wrong  suppositions. 


^^H AFTER    VII 
VIRGIL   ON   THE    HOHENTWIEL 

After  one  has  got  over  the  trouble  and  fatigue 
of  a  jmigration  to  a  new  residence,  it  is  very  pleas- 
ant Vork  to  find  everything  about  one  cozy  and 
comfortable. 

No  one  ought  ^o  think  it  a  matter  of  indifference 
in  what  place  he  lives  and  what  his  surroundings 
are.  He  whose  windows,  for  instance,  look  out  on 
a  highway,  where  carts  and  carriages  are  con- 
stantly passing, 'and  on  which  stones  are  being 

140 


b'l 


Ekkehard 

ground  to  pieces,  is  certainly  oftener  visited  by 
gray,  dusty  thoughts  than  by  gay,  many-colored 
fancies. 

With  regard  to  situation,  Ekkehard  might  well 
be  contented;  for  the  ducal  castle  on  the  Hohen- 
twiel  was  high,  airy,  and  lonely  enough ;  but  still 
he  was  not  quite  satisfied  when,  on  the  day  after  his 
arrival.  Dame  Hadwig  showed  him  his  domicile. 

It  was  a  spacious  chamber,  with  arched  windows 
supported  on  pillars,  and  was  entered  by  the  same 
passage  which  also  led  to  the  Duchess's  hall  and 
chambers.  Now  the  impressions  which  a  man 
takes  with  him  from  his  lonely  cloister-cell  are 
not  to  be  shaken  off  in  one  single  night,  and  Ekke- 
hard reflected  how  often  he  might  be  disturbed  in 
his  meditations  if  the  tread  of  armor-clad  men  or 
the  softer  footstep  of  serving-maids  were  to  pass 
his  door,  where  he  might  even  hear  the  mistress 
of  the  castle  passing  up  and  down  in  her  chambers. 
So  he  simply  addressed  himself  to  the  Duchess,  say- 
ing: "I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,  my  liege  lady." 

"Speak,"  said  she  mildly. 

"Could  you  not  give  me,  besides  this  grand 
room,  a  more  distant  and  solitary  little  chamber, 
no  matter  whether  it  be  high  up  under  the  roof  or 
in  one  of  the  watch-towers?  One  great  require- 
ment for  the  study  of  science,  as  well  as  the  exer- 
cise of  prayer,  is  perfect  quiet,  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  cloister!" 

141        V;-., 


Ekkehard 

On  hearing  this,  a  slight  frown  overshadowed 
Dame  Hadwig's  fair  brow.  It  was  not  a  cloud — 
only  a  cloudlet.  "If  you  wish  to  be  often  quite 
alone,"  said  she  with  a  satirical  smile,  "why  did 
you  not  stay  at  St.  Gall?" 

Ekkehard  bowed  his  head  and  remained  silent. 

"Stay,"  cried  Dame  Hadwig,  "your  wish  shall 
be  fulfilled.  You  can  look  at  the  room  in  which 
Vincentius,  our  chaplain,  lived  till  his  blessed  end. 
He  also  had  the  taste  of  a  bird  of  prey,  and  pre- 
ferred being  the  highest  on  the  Hohentwiel  to  be- 
ing the  most  comfortable.  Praxedis,  get  the  large 
bunch  of  keys  and  accompany  our  guest." 

Praxedis  obeyed.  The  chamber  of  the  late  chap- 
lain was  high  up  in  the  square  tower  of  the 
castle.  Slowly  the  maid  ascended  the  winding 
staircase,  followed  by  Ekkehard.  The  key  grated 
in  the  long  unused  lock,  and,  creaking  on  its  hinges, 
the  heavy  door  swung  back.  They  entered;  but 
what  a  sight  was  before  them! 

Where  a  learned  man  has  lived  it  takes  some 
time  to  destroy  all  traces  of  him.  The  room  in 
question,  of  moderate  size  and  with  whitewashed 
wall5,  contained  but  little  furniture ;  dust  and  cob- 
webs covered  everything.  On  the  oak  table  in  the 
middle  stood  a  small  pot  that  had  once  served  as 
an  inkstand,  but  the  ink  had  long  been  dried  up. 
In  one  corner  stood  a  stone  jug,  which  in  former 
times  had  probably  held  the  sparkling  wine.   On  a 

142 


Ekkehard 

rough  bookshelf  were  some  books,  and  close  by 
some  open  parchments;  but — oh,  misery! — a  storm 
had  broken  the  little  window,  so  that  Vincentius's 
room,  after  his  death,  had  been  open  to  sunshine 
and  rain,  to  insects  and  birds.  A  flock  of  pigeons, 
taking  undisputed  possession,  had  snugly  settled 
down  among  all  the  book-wisdom.  On  the  epistles 
of  St.  Paul  and  Julius  Caesar's  Gallic  wars  they 
had  built  their  nests,  and  now  looked  with  surprise 
at  the  intruders. 

Opposite  the  door  was  written  with  charcoal  on 
the  wall  the  text:  "Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  care- 
ful and  troubled  about  many  things."  Ekkehard 
read  it,  and  then  asked  his  lovely  guide,  "Was  that 
the  late  chaplain's  last  will?" 

Praxedis  laughed  merrily.  "He  was  a  pleasant 
and  peace-loving  man,  the  late  Master  Vincentius. 
^Comfort  and  rest  are  better  than  many  a  pound  of 
silver,'  was  what  he  often  said.  But  my  lady  the 
Duchess  worried  him  a  good  deal  with  her  ques- 
tions. One  day  she  was  wanting  to  know  about  the 
stars ;  the  next  about  herbs  and  medicine ;  the  day 
after,  about  the  Holy  Bible  and  the  traditions  of 
the  church.  What  have  you  studied  for,  if  you 
can  not  tell  me  anything?'  she  would  say,  and  Mas- 
ter Vincentius's  patience  was  often  sorely  tried." 

Praxedis  pointed  archly  to  her  forehead. 

"  *In  the  middle  of  Asia,'  he  often  replied,  *there 
is  a  black  marble  stone;  and  he  who  can  lift  it 

145 


Ekkehard 

knows  everything  and  need  not  ask  any  more  ques- 
tions.' He  was  from  Bavaria,  Master  Vincentius, 
and  I  suppose  that  he  wrote  down  the  quotation 
from  the  Scripture  to  console  himself." 

"Does  the  Duchess  ask  so  many  questions?"  said 
Ekkehard  absently. 

"That  you  will  soon  find  out  for  yourself,"  re- 
plied Praxedis. 

Ekkehard  examined  the  books  on  the  shelves. 
"I  am  sorry  for  the  pigeons,  but  they  will  have 
to  go." 

"Why?" 

"They  have  spoiled  the  whole  of  the  first  book 
on  the  Gallic  wars;  and  the  epistle  to  the  Corin- 
thians is  hopelessly  and  irreparably  damaged." 

"Is  that  a  great  loss?"  asked  Praxedis. 

"A  very  great  loss !" 

"Oh,  you  naughty  doves,"  said  Praxedis  jest- 
ingly. "Come  to  me,  before  yonder  pious  man 
drives  you  out  among  the  hawks  and  falcons;"  and 
she  called  to  the  birds  which  had  quietly  remained 
in  their  niche.  And  when  they  did  not  come,  she 
threw  a  ball  of  white  worsted  on  the  table;  the 
male  dove  flew  toward  it,  believing  that  it  was  a 
new  dove.  With  stately  steps  he  approached  the 
white  ball,  greeting  it  with  a  gentle  cooing;  and 
when  Praxedis  snatched  it  up,  the  bird  flew  on  her 
head. 

Then  she  began  to  sing  softly  a  Greek  melody. 

144 


Ekkehard 

It  was  the  song  of  the  old  yet  ever  young  singer 
of  Teos. 

"Tell  me,  thou  pretty  birdie, 
Tell  me  from  whence  thou  comest,      , 
And  whence  the  balmy  fragrance 
Which  from  thy  snowy  pinions 
Drips  down  upon  the  meadow; 
Who  art  thou?    And  what  wilt  thou?" 

Ekkehard  started  up  with  surprise  from  tKe 
codex  in  which  he  was  reading,  and  threw  an  al- 
most frightened  look  on  the  young  girl.  If  his  eye 
had  been  more  accustomed  to  see  natural  grace 
and  beauty,  it  would  probably  have  rested  some- 
what longer  on  the  Greek  maid.  The  dove  had 
hopped  upon  her  hand,  and  she  lifted  it  up  with  a 
bended  arm.  Anacreon's  old  countryman,  who  out 
of  a  block  of  Parian  marble  created  the  Venus  of 
Knidos,  would  have  fixed  the  picture  in  his  mem- 
ory if  he  had  witnessed  it. 

^'What  are  you  singing?"  asked  Ekkehard;  *'it 
sounds  like  a  foreign  language." 

**Why  should  it  not  be  foreign?" 

"Greek?" 

"And  why  should  I  not  sing  Greek?"  pertly  re- 
joined Praxedis. 

"By  the  lyre  of  Homer,"  exclaimed  Ekkehard, 
full  of  surprise,  "where  in  the  name  of  wonder  did 
you  learn  that,  the  highest  aim  of  our  scholars?" 

145 

Vol.  3  (A)— 7 


Ekkehard 

"At  home,"  quietly  replied  Praxedis. 

Ekkehard  cast  another  look  full  of  shy  respect 
and  admiration  at  her.  While  reading  Aristotle 
and  Plato  he  had  hardly  remembered  that  any  liv- 
ing persons  still  spoke  the  Greek  tongue.  The 
idea  now  dawned  upon  him  that  something  was 
here  embodied  before  him,  that  in  spite  of  all  his 
spiritual  and  worldly  wisdom  was  beyond  his 
reach  and  understanding. 

"I  thought  I  had  come  as  a  teacher  to  the  Ho- 
hentwiel,"  said  he  almost  humbly,  "and  I  find  my 
master  here.  Would  you  not  now  and  then  deign 
to  bestow  a  grain  of  your  mother-tongue  on  me?" 

"On  condition  that  you  will  not  drive  away  the 
doves,"  replied  Praxedis.  "You  can  easily  have  a 
grating  put  up  before  the  niche,  so  that  they  do 
not  fly  about  your  head." 

"For  the  sake  of  pure  Greek — "  Ekkehard  was 
beginning  to  say,  when  the  door  opened,  and  the 
sharp  voice  of  Dame  Hadwig  was  heard. 

"What  are  you  talking  here  about  doves  and 
pure  Greek?  Does  it  take  so  much  time  to  look 
at  four  walls?  Well,  Master  Ekkehard,  does  the 
den  suit  your  taste?" 

He  bowed  in  the  affirmative. 

"Then  it  shall  be  cleaned  and  put  in  order," 
continued  Dame  Hadwig.  "Be  quick,  Praxedis, 
and  see  about  it — and  to  begin  with,  let  us  drive 
away  these  doves!" 

146 


Ekkehard 

Ekkehard  ventured  to  put  in  a  word  on  their 
behalf. 

"Indeed!"  said  the  Duchess,  "you  desire  to  be 
alone,  and  yet  wish  to  keep  doves !  Shall  we  per- 
haps hang  a  lute  on  the  wall,  and  strew  rose-leaves 
into  your  wine?  Well,  they  shall  not  be  driven 
out;  but  they  shall  appear  roasted  on  our  supper- 
table  this  evening." 

Praxedis  appeared  to  hear  nothing  of  all  this. 

"And  what  was  that  about  the  pure  Greek?" 
inquired  the  Duchess.  And  Ekkehard  simply  told 
her  the  favor  he  had  asked  of  Praxedis.  Upon 
this,  the  frown  returned  to  Dame  Hadwig's  fore- 
head. "If  you  are  so  very  anxious  to  learn,"  said 
she,  "you  can  ask  me;  for  I  also  speak  that  lan- 
guage." Ekkehard  made  no  objection,  for  in  her 
speech  there  was  a  certain  sharpness  which  cut 
off  all  replies.  The  Duchess  was  strict  and  punc- 
tual in  everything.  A  day  or  two  after  Ekkehard's 
arrival  she  worked  out  a  plan  for  learning  the 
Latin  language,  and  so  it  was  settled  that  they 
should  devote  one  hour  each  day  to  the  grammar, 
and  another  to  the  reading  of  Virgil.  This  latter 
was  looked  forward  to  with  great  pleasure  by 
Ekkehard.  He  intended  to  apply  the  whole  of  his 
faculties  to  the  new  study  and  to  summon  up  all 
his  erudition  and  knowledge  in  order  to  make 
the  task  easy  to  the  Duchess. 

"It  is  certainly  no  useless  work  which  the  old 


Ekkehard 

poets  have  left  behind,'*  he  said.  "How  difficult 
it  would  be  to  learn  a  language  if  it  were  be- 
queathed to  us  merely  through  a  dictionary,  like 
corn  in  a  sack,  which  we  should  first  have  to  grind 
into  flour,  and  then  to  make  into  bread.  Now  the 
poet  puts  everything  in  its  right  place,  and  the 
whole  is  clothed  in  harmonious  forms ;  so  that  what 
otherwise  would  prove  a  hard  and  tough  matter 
for  our  teeth  we  can  now  drink  in  like  honey-dew." 

To  mitigate  the  bitterness  of  the  grammar  Ek- 
kehard could  find  no  means.  Every  day  he  wrote 
a  task  for  the  Duchess  on  parchment,  and  she 
proved  a  very  eager  and  industrious  pupil;  for 
each  morning  when  the  sun  rose  over  the  Lake  of 
Constance,  and  cast  its  early  rays  on  the  Hohen- 
twiel,  she  stood  already  at  her  window,  learning 
her  task,  silently  or  aloud  as  might  be.  Once  her 
monotonous  reciting  of  amo,  amas,  amat,  reached 
even  Ekkehard's  ear  in  his  chamber. 

Poor  Praxedis  was  heavily  afflicted,  since  the 
Duchess,  to  heighten  her  own  zeal,  ordered  her  to 
learn  always  the  same  task  as  herself,  which  she 
considered  a  great  nuisance.  Dame  Hadwig,  only 
a  beginner,  delighted  in  correcting  her  hand- 
maiden, and  was  never  so  pleased  as  when  Prax- 
edis took  a  substantive  for  an  adjective,  or 
conjugated  an  irregular  verb  as  a  regular  one. 

In  the  evening  the  Duchess  came  over  to  Ekke- 
hard's room,  where  everything  had  to  be  ready  for 

148 


Ekkehard 

the  reading  of  Virgil.  Praxedis  accompanied  her, 
and  as  no  dictionary  was  found  among  the  books 
which  Master  Vincentius  had  left  behind,  Prax- 
edis, who  was  well  versed  in  the  art  of  writing, 
was  ordered  to  begin  to  make  one,  as  Dame  H ad- 
wig  did  not  know  much  about  writing.  "What 
would  be  the  use  of  priests  and  monks,"  said  she, 
"if  everybody  knew  the  art  belonging  to  their  pro- 
fession? Let  the  blacksmiths  wield  the  hammer, 
the  soldiers  the  sword,  and  the  scriveners  the  pen, 
and  every  one  stick  to  his  own  business."  She  had, 
however,  practised  writing  her  name,  in  capital 
letters,  artistically  entwined,  so  that  she  could  affix 
it  to  all  documents  to  which  she  put  her  seal,  as 
ruler  of  the  land. 

Praxedis  cut  up  a  big  roll  of  parchment  into 
small  leaves,  drawing  two  lines  on  each,  to  make 
three  divisions.  After  each  lesson  she  wrote  down 
the  Latin  words  they  had  learned  in  one,  the  Ger- 
man in  the  next,  and  the  Greek  equivalent  in  the 
third  column.  This  last  was  done  by  the  Duchess's 
desire,  in  order  to  prove  to  Ekkehard  that  they 
had  already  acquired  some  knowledge  before  he 
came.    Thus  the  lessons  had  fairly  begun. 

The  door  of  Ekkehard's  room,  leading  into  the 
passage,  was  left  wide  open  by  Praxedis.  He  rose 
and  was  about  to  shut  it,  when  the  Duchess  pre- 
vented him,  by  saying:  "Do  you  not  yet  know  the 
world?" 

149 


Ekkehard 

Ekkehard  could  not  understand  the  meaning  of 
this. 

He  now  began  to  read  and  translate  the  first 
book  of  Virgil's  great  epic  poem.  iEneas  the  Tro- 
jan rose  before  their  eyes;  how  he  had  wandered 
about  for  seven  years  on  the  Tyrian  Sea,  and  what 
unspeakable  pains  it  had  cost  him  to  become  the 
founder  of  the  Roman  people.  Then  came  the 
recital  of  Juno's  anger,  when  she  went  to  entreat 
'^olus  to  do  her  bidding,  promising  the  fairest  of 
her  nymphs  to  the  god  of  the  winds  if  he  would 
destroy  the  Trojan  ships.  Then  came  thunder- 
storms, tempests,  and  dire  shipwrecks — turbulent 
waves  scattering  weapons  and  armor,  beams  and 
rafters,  of  what  had  once  been  the  stately  fleet  of 
the  Trojans.  And  the  roar  of  the  excited  waves 
reaches  the  ears  of  Neptune  himself,  who,  rising 
from  his  watery  depths,  beholds  the  dire  confusion. 
The  winds  of  iEolus  are  ignominiously  sent  home ; 
the  rebellious  waves  settle  down ;  and  the  remain- 
ing ships  anchor  on  the  Libyan  shores.  .    .    . 

So  far  Ekkehard  had  read  and  translated.  His 
voice  was  full  and  sonorous,  and vibratingwith emo- 
tion ;  for  he  perfectly  understood  what  he  had  read. 
It  was  getting  late ;  the  lamp  was  flickering  in  its 
socket,  and  Dame  Hadwig  rose  from  her  seat  to  go. 

"How  does  my  gracious  mistress  like  the  tale 
of  the  heathen  poet?"  asked  Ekkehard. 

"I  will  tell  you  to-morrow,"  was  the  reply. 

150 


Ekkehard 

To  be  sure,  she  might  have  said  it  there  and 
then;  for  the  impression  of  what  she  had  heard  was 
already  fixed  in  her  mind;  but  she  refrained  from 
doing  so,  not  liking  to  hurt  his  feelings. 

"May  you  have  pleasant  dreams,"  she  called  out 
as  he  was  departing. 

Ekkehard  went  up  to  Vincentius's  room  in  the 
tower,  which  had  been  restored  to  perfect  order; 
all  traces  of  the  doves  having  been  removed.  He 
wanted  to  pray  and  meditate,  as  he  was  wont  to  do 
in  the  monastery,  but  his  head  began  to  burn  and 
before  his  soul  stood  the  lofty  figure  of  the  Duch- 
ess ;  and  when  he  looked  straight  at  her,  then  Prax- 
edis's  black  eyes  also  peeped  at  him  from  over 
her  mistress's  shoulders.  What  was  to  be  the  end 
of  all  this? 

He  went  to  the  window,  where  the  fresh  autumn 
air  cooled  his  forehead,  and  looked  out  at  the  dark, 
vast  sky,  stretching  out  over  the  silent  earth.  The 
stars  twinkled  brightly,  some  nearer,  some  farther 
off,  more  or  less  brilliant.  He  had  never  before 
enjoyed  such  an  extensive  view  of  the  starry  firma- 
ment; for  on  the  top  of  the  mountains  the  appear- 
ance and  size  of  things  change  much.  For  a  long 
time  he  stood  thus,  until  he  began  to  shiver;  and 
he  felt  as  if  the  stars  were  attracting  him  upward, 
and  that  he  must  rise  toward  them  as  on  wings.  .  .  . 
He  closed  the  window,  crossed  himself,  and  went 
to  seek  his  resting-place. 

151 


Ekkehard 

On  the  next  day  Dame  Hadwig  came  with 
Praxedis  to  take  her  grammar  lesson.  She  had 
learned  many  words  and  declensions,  and  knew 
her  task  well;  but  she  was  absent-minded  withal. 

"Did  you  dream  anything?"  she  asked  her 
teacher  when  the  lesson  was  over. 

"No." 

"Nor  yesterday?" 

"Neither." 

"  'Tis  a  pity,  for  it  is  said  that  what  we  dream 
the  first  night  in  a  new  domicile  comes  true.  Now 
confess,  are  you  not  a  very  awkward  young  man?" 
she  continued  after  a  short  pause. 

"I?"  asked  Ekkehard,  greatly  surprised. 

"As  you  hold  constant  intercourse  with  the  poets, 
why  did  you  not  invent  some  graceful  dream,  and 
tell  it  me?  Poetry  and  dreams,  'tis  all  the  same, 
and  it  would  have  given  me  pleasure." 

"If  such  is  your  command,"  said  Ekkehard,  "I 
will  do  so  the  next  time  you  ask  me ;  even  if  I  have 
dreamt  nothing." 

Such  conversations  were  entirely  new  and  mys- 
tical to  Ekkehard.  "You  still  owe  me  your  opinion 
of  Virgil,"  said  he. 

"Well,"  returned  Dame  Hadwig,  "if  I  had  been 
a  queen  in  Roman  lands,  I  do  not  know  whether  I 
should  not  have  burned  the  poem,  and  imposed 
eternal  silence  on  the  man  ..." 

Ekkehard  stared  at  her,  full  of  amazement. 

152 


Ekkehard 

"I  am  perfectly  serious  about  it,"  continued  she, 
"and  do  you  wish  to  know  why?  Because  he  re- 
viles the  gods  of  his  country.  I  paid  great  atten- 
tion when  you  recited  the  speeches  of  Juno 
yesterday.  That  she,  the  wife  of  the  chief  of  all 
the  gods,  feels  a  rankling  in  her  mind  because 
a  Trojan  shepherd  boy  does  not  declare  her  to  be 
the  most  beautiful,  and,  being  powerless  to  call  up 
a  tempest  at  her  will  to  destroy  a  few  miserable 
ships,  must  first  bribe  ^olus  by  the  offer  of  a 
nymph!  And  then  Neptune,  who  calls  himself  the 
king  of  the  seas,  and  allows  strange  winds  to  cause 
a  tempest  in  his  realms,  and  only  notices  this  trans- 
gression when  it  is  wellnigh  over!  What  is  the 
upshot  of  all  that?  I  can  tell  you,  that  in  a  country 
whose  gods  are  thus  abased  and  defamed,  I  should 
not  like  to  wield  the  sceptre!" 

Ekkehard  could  not  very  readily  find  an  answer. 
All  the  manuscripts  of  the  ancients  were  for  him 
stable  and  immovable  as  the  mountains;  and  he 
was  content  to  read  and  admire  what  lay  before 
him — and  now  such  doubts! 

"Pardon  me,  gracious  lady,"  he  said,  "we  have 
not  read  very  far  as  yet,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that 
the  human  beings  of  the  -^neid  will  find  greater 
favor  in  your  eyes.  Please  to  remember  that  at  the 
time  when  the  Emperor  Augustus  had  his  subjects 
counted,  the  ligKt  of  the  world  began  to  dawn  at 
Bethlehem.    The  legend  says  that  a  ray  of  that 

153 


Ekkehard 

light  had  also  fallen  on  Virgil,  which  explains  why 
the  old  gods  could  not  appear  so  great  in  his  eyes.'^ 

Dame  Hadwig  had  spoken  according  to  her  first 
impression,  but  she  did  not  intend  to  argue  with 
her  teacher. 

"Praxedis,"  said  she  in  a  jesting  tone,  "what  may 
thy  opinion  be?" 

"My  powers  of  thought  are  not  so  great,"  said 
the  Greek  maid.  "Everything  appeared  to  me  to  be 
so  very  natural;  and  that  made  me  like  it.  And 
what  has  pleased  me  most  was  that  Mistress  Juno 
gave  JEolus  to  one  of  her  nymphs  for  a  husband; 
for  though  he  was  somewhat  elderly,  he  was,  after 
all,  king  of  the  winds,  and  she  must  certainly  have 
been  well  provided  for." 

"Certainly,"  said  Dame  Hadwig,  making  a 
sign  to  her  to  be  silent.  "  'Tis  well  that  we  have 
learned  in  what  way  waiting-women  can  appreci- 
ate Virgil." 

Ekkehard  was  only  provoked  into  greater  zeal 
by  the  Duchess's  contradiction.  With  enthusiasm 
he  read,  on  the  following  evening,  how  the  pious 
iEneas  goes  out  to  seek  the  Libyan  land ;  and  how 
he  meets  his  mother  Venus,  dressed  in  the  habit 
and  armor  of  a  Spartan  maid,  the  light  bow  hang- 
ing over  her  shoulder,  and  her  fair  heaving  bosom 
scarcely  hidden  by  the  looped-up  garment;  and 
how  she  directs  her  son's  steps  toward  the  Libyan 
princess.    Further  he  read  how  ^neas  recognizes 

154 


Ekkehard 

his  divine  mother,  but  too  late,  calling  after  her  in 
vain ;  but  how  she  wraps  him  up  in  a  mist,  so  that 
he  can  reach  the  new  town  unseen,  where  the  Ty- 
rian  queen  is  building  a  splendid  temple  in  honor 
of  Juno.  There  he  stands  transfixed  with  admira- 
tion, gazing  at  the  representation  of  the  battles  be- 
fore Troy,  painted  by  the  hand  of  the  artist;  and 
his  soul  is  refreshed  by  the  recollections  of  past 
battles. 

And  now  Dido,  the  mistress  of  the  land,  herself 
approaches,  urging  on  the  workmen,  and  perform-, 
ing  her  sovereign's  duties. 

"And  at  the  gate  of  the  temple,  in  Juno's  honor  erected, 
There  on  her  throne  sat  the  queen,  surrounded  by  arm- 
bearing  warriors, 
Dealing   out   justice   to   all,   and   dividing   the   labors 

amongst  them 
With  an  impartial  hand,  allotting  his  share  to  each 
one  ..." 

"Read  that  over  again,"  said  the  Duchess. 
Ekkehard  complied  with  her  wish. 

"Is  it  written  thus  in  the  book?"  asked  she.  "I 
should  not  have  objected  if  you  had  put  in  these 
lines  yourself;  for  I  almost  fancied  I  heard  a  de- 
scription of  my  own  government.  Yes,  with  the 
human  beings  of  your  poet  I  am  well  satisfied." 

"It  was  no  doubt  easier  to  describe  them  than 

155 


Ekkehard 

the  gods,"  said  Ekkehard.  "There  are  so  many 
men  in  this  world  ..." 

She  made  him  a  sign  to  continue.  So  he  read  on, 
how  the  companions  of  ^neas  came,  to  implore 
her  protection,  and  how  they  sung  their  leader's 
praise,  who,  hidden  by  a  cloud,  stood  close  by. 
And  Dido  opens  her  town  to  the  helpless  ones; 
and  the  wish  arises  in  her,  that  ^neas  their  king 
might  also  be  thrown  by  the  raging  waves  on  her 
shores,  so  that  the  hero  feels  a  great  longing  to 
break  through  the  cloud  that  is  veiling  him. 

But  when  Ekkehard  began  with : 


n 


Scarce  had  she  uttered  this  wish,  when  the  veiling  cloud 
floated  backward  ..." 


a  heavy  tread  was  heard,  and  the  next  moment,  in 
came  Master  Spazzo  the  chamberlain,  wanting  to 
have  a  look  at  the  Duchess  taking  her  lesson.  Most 
likely  he  had  been  sitting  with  the  wine-jug  before 
him,  for  his  eyes  were  staring  vacantly,  and  the 
speech  of  salutation  died  on  his  lips.  It  was  not  his 
fault  though;  for  quite  early  in  the  morning,  he 
had  felt  his  nose  burn  and  itch  dreadfully,  and 
that  is  an  unmistakable  sign  of  a  tipsy  evening  tq 
come. 

"Stop  there,"  cried  the  Duchess,  "and  you,  Ekke- 
hard, continue!" 

He  read  on  with  his  clear,  expressive  voice: 

156 


Ekkehard 

"Showing  ^neas  himself,  in  all  the  bloom  of  his  beauty, 
High  and  lofty  withal,  godlike,  for  the  heavenly  mother 
Having  with  soft,  flowing  locks  and  glorious  features 

endowed  him, 
Breathing  into  his  eyes  sereneness  and  radiance  forever : 
Like  as  the  ivory  may,  by  dexterous  hands,  be  embellished. 
Or  as  the  Parian  stone,  encircled  by  red,  golden  fillets. 
Then  he,  addressing  the  queen,  to  the  wonder  of  all  the 

surrounders. 
Suddenly  turned  and  said :  'Behold,  then,  him  you  were 

seeking. 
Me,   the    Trojan   -^neas,    escaped    from   the   Libyan 

breakers.'  " 

^  Master  Spazzo  stood  there,  in  utter  confusion, 
while  an  arch  smile  played  around  the  lips  of 
Praxedis. 

"When  you  honor  us  next  with  your  presence," 
called  out  the  Duchess,  "please  to  choose  a  more 
suitable  moment  for  your  entrance,  so  that  we  may 
not  be  tempted  to  imagine  you  to  be  'the  Trojan 
^neas,  escaped  from  the  Libyan  breakers'!" 

Master  Spazzo  quickly  withdrew,  muttering: 
"The  Trojan  ^Eneas?  Has  another  Rhinelandish 
adventurer  forged  some  mythical  pedigree  for  him- 
self? Troy — and  clouds  floating  backward?  .  .  . 
Wait,  ^neas  the  Trojan;  when  we  two  meet, 
we  shall  break  a  lance  together!  Death  and 
damnation!" 

157 


Ij    Ekkehard 


i 


CHAPTER   VIII 

AUDIFAX 

At  that  time,  there  also  lived  on  the  Hohen- 
twiel  a  boy  whose  name  was  Audif  ax.  He  was  the 
child  of  a  bondman,  and  had  lost  both  his  parents 
early  in  life.  He  had  grown  up  like  a  wild  moun- 
tain-ash, and  nobody  cared  much  about  him.  He 
belonged  to  the  castle,  as  the  house-leek  did  that 
grew  on  the  roof,  or  the  ivy  which  had  fastened 
its  tendrils  to  the  walls.  As  he  grew  older  he  was 
entrusted  with  the  care  of  the  goats;  and  this  of- 
fice he  fulfilled  faithfully  enough,  driving  them 
out  and  home  again  every  day.  He  was  a  shy 
and  silent  boy,  with  a  pale  face,  and  short-cut  fair 
hair,  for  only  the  free-born  were  allowed  to  wear 
long  waving  locks. 

In  the  spring,  when  trees  and  bushes  put  forth 
their  new  shoots,  Audifax  loved  to  sit  in  the  open 
air,  making  himself '  pipes  out  of  the  young 
wood,  and  blowing  thereon.  It  was  doleful,  mel- 
ancholy music,  and  Dame  Hadwig  had  once  stood 
on  her  balcony,  listening  to  it  for  hours.  Probably 
the  plaintive  notes  of  the  pipe  had  suited  her  fancy 
that  day;  for  when  Audifax  came  home  with  his 
goats  in  the  evening,  she  told  him  to  ask  a  favor 

158 


Ekkehard 

for  himself ;  and  he  begged  for  a  little  bell  for  one 
of  his  favorite  goats,  called  Blackfoot.  Blackfoot 
got  the  little  bell,  and  from  that  time  nothing  par- 
ticular had  broken  the  monotonous  routine  of  Au- 
difax's  life.  But  with  increasing  years  he  became 
shyer,  and  since  the  last  spring  he  had  even  given 
up  blowing  on  his  pipe.  It  was  now  late  in  the 
autumn,  but  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  still,  and 
he  was  driving  his  goats  as  usual  down  the  rocky 
mountain  slope;  and  sitting  on  a  rock,  looked  out 
into  the  distance.  Through  the  dark  fir  trees  he 
could  see  the  glittering  surface  of  the  Bodensee. 
All  around,  the  trees  were  already  wearing  their 
autumnal  colors,  and  the  winds  were  playing  mer- 
rily with  the  rustling  red  and  yellow  leaves  on  the 
ground.  Heaving  a  deep  sigh,  Audifax  after  a 
while  began  to  cry  bitterly. 

At  that  time,  a  little  girl,  whose  name  was  Hadu- 
moth,  was  minding  the  geese  and  ducks  belonging 
to  the  castle  poultry  yard.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  an  old  maid-servant,  and  had  never  seen  her 
father.  This  Hadumoth  was  a  very  good  little 
girl,  with  bright  red  cheeks  and  blue  eyes ;  and  she 
wore  her  hair  in  two  tresses  falling  down  on  her 
shoulders.  The  geese  were  kept  in  excellent  order 
and  training,  and  though  they  would  stick  out  their 
long  necks  sometimes,  and  cackle  like  foolish 
women,  not  one  of  them  dared  to  disobey  its  mis- 
tress; and  when  she  waved  her  hazel  wand  they 

159 


Ekkehard 

all  went  quietly  and  decently  along,  refraining 
from  useless  noise.  Often  they  picked  their  herbs 
in  company  with  the  goats  of  Audifax;  for  Hadu- 
moth  rather  liked  the  short-haired  goatherd,  and 
often  sat  beside  him;  and  the  two  looked  up  to- 
gether at  the  blue  sky;  and  the  animals  soon  found 
out  the  friendly  feelings  between  their  guardians, 
and  consequently  were  friendly  also. 

At  that  moment  Hadumoth  was  likewise  coming 
down  the  hill  with  her  geese,  and  on  hearing  the 
tinkling  of  the  goat-bells,  she  looked  about  for  the 
driver.  Then  she  beheld  him  sitting  on  the  stone 
in  his  distress;  and  going  up  to  him,  sat  down  by 
his  side  and  said :  "Audifax,  what  makes  thee  cry?'* 

But  the  boy  gave  no  answer.  Then  Hadumoth 
put  her  arm  round  his  shoulders,  drew  his  little 
smooth  head  toward  her,  and  said  sorrowfully: 
"Audifax,  if  thou  criest,  I  must  cry  also." 

Then  Audifax  tried  to  dry  his  tears,  saying: 
"Thou  needest  not  cry,  but  I  must.  There  is  some- 
thing within  me  that  makes  me  cry." 

"What  is  in  thee?  tell  me,"  she  urged  him. 

Then  he  took  one  of  the  stones,  such  as  were 
lying  about  plentifully,  and  threw  it  on  the  other 
stones.  The  stone  was  thin  and  produced  a  ringing 
sound. 

"Didst  thou  hear  it?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Hadumoth,  "it  sounded  just  as 
usual." 

i6o 


Ekkehard 

"Hast  thou  also  understood  the  sound?" 

"No." 

"Ah,  but  I  understand  it,  and  therefore  I  must 
cry,"  said  Audifax.  "It  is  now  many  weeks  ago 
that  I  sat  in  yonder  valley  on  a  rock.  There  it 
first  came  to  me.  I  can  not  tell  thee  how,  but  it 
must  have  come  from  the  depths  below;  and  since 
then  I  feel  as  if  my  eyes  and  ears  were  quite 
changed,  and  in  my  hands  I  sometimes  see  glitter- 
ing sparks.  Whenever  I  walk  over  the  fields  I  hear 
it  murmuring  under  my  feet,  as  if  there  were  some 
hidden  spring;  and  when  I  stand  by  the  rocks  I 
see  the  veins  running  through  them ;  and  down  be- 
low I  hear  a  hammering  and  digging,  and  that 
must  come  from  the  dwarfs,  of  which  my  grand- 
father has  told  me  many  a  time.  And  sometimes  I 
even  see  a  red  glowing  light  shining  through  the 
earth.  .  .  .  Hadumoth,  I  must  find  some  great 
treasure,  and  because  I  can  not  find  it,  therefore 
I  cry." 

Hadumoth  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  then 
said:  "Thou  must  have  been  bewitched  somehow, 
Audifax.  Perhaps  thou  hast  slept  after  sunset  on 
the  ground  in  the  open  air;  and  thus  one  of  the 
goblins  below  has  got  power  over  thee.  Wait,  I 
know  something  better  than  crying." 

She  ran  up  the  hill,  speedily  returning  with  a 
small  cup  full  of  water,  and  a  bit  of  soap,  which 
Praxedis  had  once  given  her,  as  well  as  some 

i6i 


Ekkehard 

straws.  Then  she  made  a  good  lather,  and  giving 
one  of  the  straws  to  Audifax,  she  said:  "There,  let 
us  make  soap-bubbles,  as  we  used  to  do.  Dost  thou 
remember,  when  we  made  them  last  time,  how  they 
always  grew  bigger  and  more  beautifully  colored ; 
and  how  they  flew  down  the  valley,  glittering  like 
the  rainbow,  and  how  we  almost  cried  when  they 
burst?^' 

Audifax  had  taken  the  straw  without  saying  a 
word,  and  had  blown  a  fine  bubble,  which,  fresh 
like  a  dew-drop,  was  hanging  at  the  end  of  the 
straw;  and  he  held  it  up  into  the  air  to  let  the  sun 
shine  on  it. 

"Dost  thou  recollect,  Audifax,"  continued  the 
girl,  "what  thou  saidst  to  me  once,  when  we  had 
used  up  all  our  soap-water,  and  it  became  night, 
with  the  stars  all  coming  out?  'These  are  also 
soap-bubbles,'  thou  saidst,  'and  the  good  God  is 
sitting  on  a  high  mountain,  blowing  them,  and  He 
can  do  it  better  than  we  can.' " 

"No,  I  do  not  remember  that,"  said  Audifax. 

He  hung  down  his  head  again,  and  began  to 
cry  afresh.  "What  must  I  do  to  find  the  treasure?" 
sobbed  he. 

"Be  sensible,"  said  Hadumoth;  "what  wouldst 
thou  do  with  the  treasure  if  thou  couldst  find  it?" 

"I  should  buy  my  liberty,  and  thine  also;  and 
all  the  land  from  the  Duchess,  mountain  and  all; 
and  I  should  have  made  for  thee  a  golden  crown, 

162 


Ekkehard 

and  for  every  goat  a  golden  bell,  and  for  myself  a 
flute  made  of  ebony  and  pure  gold." 

"Of  pure  gold,"  laughed  Hadumoth.  "Dost 
thou  know  what  gold  looks  like?" 

Audifax  pointed  with  his  fingers  to  his  lips. 
"Canst  thou  keep  a  secret?"  She  nodded  in  the 
affirmative.  "Then  promise  me  with  your  hand." 
She  gave  him  her  hand. 

"Now  I  will  show  you  how  pure  gold  looks," 
said  the  boy,  diving  into  his  breast-pocket,  and 
pulling  out  a  piece  like  a  good-sized  coin,  but 
shaped  like  a  cup.  On  it  were  engraven  mystic, 
half-effaced  characters.  It  glistened  and  shone 
brightly  in  the  sun,  and  was  really  gold.  Hadu- 
moth balanced  it  on  her  forefinger. 

"That  I  found  in  yonder  field;  far  over  there, 
after  the  thunderstorm,"  said  Audifax.  "When- 
ever the  many-colored  rainbow  descends  to  us, 
there  come  two  angels,  who  hold  out  a  golden  cup, 
so  that  its  ends  should  not  touch  the  rough  and  rain- 
drenched  ground ;  and  when  it  vanishes  again,  they 
leave  their  cups  on  the  fields,  as  they  can  not  use 
them  twice,  for  fear  of  offending  the  rainbow." 

Hadumoth  began  to  believe  that  her  companion 
was  really  destined  to  obtain  some  great  treasure. 
"Audifax,"  said  she,  giving  him  back  his  rainbow 
cup,  "this  will  not  help  thee.  He  who  wants  to 
find  a  treasure  must  know  the  spell.  Down  in  the 
depth  below  they  keep  a  good  watch  over  their 

1^3 


Ekkehard 

treasures,  and  don't  give  up  anything,  unless  they 
are  forced  to  do  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  the  spell  I"  said  Audif  ax  with  tearful 
eyes.    "If  I  only  knew  that!" 

"Hast  thou  seen  the  holy  man  already?"  asked 
Hadumoth. 

"No." 

"For  some  days  a  holy  man  has  been  in  the 
castle,  who  is  sure  to  know  all  spells.  He  has 
brought  a  great  book  with  him,  out  of  which  he 
reads  to  the  Duchess;  in  it  is  written  everything; 
how  one  conquers  all  the  spirits  in  air,  earth,  water, 
and  fire.  The  tall  Friderun  told  the  men-servants; 
and  that  the  Duchess  had  made  him  come  to 
strengthen  her  power  and  to  make  her  remain  for- 
ever young  and  beautiful,  and  live  to  eternity." 

"I  will  go  to  the  holy  man  then,"  said  Audif  ax. 

"They  will  beat  you  perhaps,"  warned  Hadu- 
moth. 

"They  will  not  beat  me,"  replied  he.  "I  know 
something  which  I  will  give  him,  if  he  tells  me  the 
spell." 

Meanwhile  the  evening  had  set  in.  The  two 
children  arose  from  their  stony  seat;  goats  and 
geese  were  collected;  and  then,  in  well  organized 
troops,  like  soldiers,  were  driven  up  the  hill,  and 
into  their  respective  sheds. 

That  same  evening  Ekkehard  read  out  to  the 
Duchess  the  end  of  the  first  book  of  the  iEneid, 

164 


Ekkehard 

which  had  been  interrupted  by  Master  Spazzo's 
untimely  entrance.  How  Dido,  greatly  surprised 
by  the  hero's  unexpected  appearance,  invites  him 
as  well  as  his  companions  into  her  hospitable  halls. 
Dame  Hadwig  gave  an  approving  nod  at  the  fol- 
lowing words  of  Dido: 

"I,  by  a  similar  fate,  with  many  a  sorrow  acquainted, 
Wearily  erring  about,  till  I  found  a  home  in  this  country, 
Grief  is  no  stranger  to  me,  and  has  taught  me  to  help  the 
afflicted." 

Then  Ekkehard  went  on  to  read  how  ^neas 
sends  back  Achates  to  the  ships,  that  he  might 
bring  the  good  news  to  Ascanius;  for  on  him  was 
centred  all  the  care  and  affection  of  his  father. 
But  Dame  Venus,  whose  head  is  rife  with  new 
cunning,  wishes  to  inflame  Dido's  heart  with  love 
for  i^neas.  So  she  removes  Ascanius  to  the  dis- 
tant Idalian  groves  and  gives  his  form  to  the  god 
of  love,  who,  divesting  himself  of  his  wings,  and 
imitating  the  carriage  and  gait  of  Ascanius,  follows 
the  Trojans  sent  to  fetch  him,  and  thus  appears 
before  the  queen  in  her  palace  at  Carthage. 

"Often  she  thus  can  be  found,  with  her  soul  in  her  eyes, 

gazing  at  him. 
Then,  too,  many  a  time,  she  presses  him  close  to  her 

bosom, 
Little  knowing,  poor  queen,  to  what  god  she  is  giving  a 

shelter. 

i6s 


Ekkehard 

Bent  on  his  mother's  designs,  in  her  heart  he  effaces  the 

image 
Of   Sichaeus,  her  spouse;  then  tries  to  rekindle  her 

passions, 
CalHng  up  feelings  within  her,  which  long  had  slum- 

ber'd  forgotten." 

"Stop  a  moment,"  said  Dame  Hadwig.  "This 
part,  I  think,  is  again  very  poor,  and  weakly  con- 
ceived." 

"Poor,  and  weakly  conceived?"  asked  Ekkehard. 

"What  need  is  there  of  Amor,"  she  said. 
"Could  it  not  happen  without  using  cunning  and 
deceit,  and  without  his  interference  that  the  mem- 
ory of  her  first  husband  could  be  effaced  in  the 
heart  of  a  widow?" 

"If  a  god  himself  made  the  mischief,"  said 
Ekkehard,  "then  Queen  Dido's  behavior  is  ex- 
cused, or  even  justified ;  that,  I  believe,  is  the  inten- 
tion of  the  poet."  Ekkehard  probably  thought  this 
a  very  clever  remark,  but  the  Duchess  now  rose, 
and  pointedly  said:  "Oh,  that,  of  course,  alters  the 
matter!  So  she  needed  an  excuse!  Really  that 
idea  did  not  strike  me!    Good-night." 

Proudly  she  stepped  through  the  chamber,  her 
long  flowing  garments  rustling  reproachfully. 

"  'Tis  strange,"  thought  Ekkehard,  "but  to  read 
Virgil  with  women  has  certainly  its  difficulties." 
Further  his  reflections  did  not  go. 

i66 


Ekkehard 

The  following  day  he  was  going  over  the  court- 
yard, when  Audifax  the  goatherd  came  to  him, 
kissed  the  hem  of  his  garment,  and  then  looked  up 
at  him  with  beseeching  eyes. 

"What  dost  thou  want?"  asked  Ekkehard. 

"I  should  like  to  know  the  spell,"  replied  Audi- 
fax  timidly. 

"What  spell?" 

"To  lift  the  treasure  out  of  the  deeps." 

"That  spell  I  should  like  to  know  also,"  said 
Ekkehard,  laughing. 

"Oh,  you  have  got  it,  holy  man,"  said  the  boy 
eagerly.  "Have  you  not  got  the  great  book,  out 
of  which  you  read  to  the  Duchess  in  the  evening?" 

Ekkehard  looked  at  him  sharply.  He  became 
suspicious,  remembering  the  way  in  which  he  had 
come  to  the  Hohentwiel.  "Has  anybody  prompted 
thee  to  interrogate  me  thus?" 

"Yes." 

"Who?" 

Then  Audifax  began  to  cry,  and  sobbed  out, 
"Hadumoth." 

Ekkehard  did  not  understand  him.  "And  who 
is  Hadumoth?" 

"The  goose-girl,"  faltered  the  boy. 

"Thou  art  a  foolish  boy,  who  ought  to  mind  his 
business." 

But  Audifax  did  not  go. 

"You  are  not  to  give  it  me  for  nothing,"  said 

167 


Ekkehard 

he.  "I  will  show  you  something  very  pretty. 
There  must  be  many  treasures  in  the  mountain.  I 
know  one,  but  it  is  not  the  right  one ;  and  I  should 
so  like  to  find  the  right  onel" 

Ekkehard's  attention  was  roused.  "Show  me 
what  thou  knowest."  Audif ax  pointed  downward ; 
and  Ekkehard,  going  out  of  the  courtyard,  fol- 
lowed him  down  the  hill.  On  the  back  of  the 
mountain,  where  one  beholds  the  fir-clad  Hohen- 
stoffeln  and  Hohenhowen,  Audifax  quitted  the 
path,  and  went  into  the  bushes  toward  a  high  wall 
of  gray  rocks. 

Audifax  pushed  aside  the  opposing  branches, 
and  tearing  away  the  moss,  showed  him  a  yellow 
vein,  as  broad  as  a  finger,  running  through  the 
gray  stone.  The  boy  then  managed  to  break  off 
a  bit  of  the  yellow  substance,  which  stuck  in  the 
chinks  of  the  rock,  like  petrified  drops.  In  the 
bright  gold-colored  mass,  small  opal  crystals,  in 
reddish  white  globules,  were  scattered. 

Closely  examining  it,  Ekkehard  looked  at  the 
detached  piece,  which  was  unknown  to  him.  It 
was  no  precious  stone.  Learned  men  in  later  years 
gave  It  the  name  of  natrolite. 

"Do  you  see  now  that  I  know  something?"  said 
Audifax. 

"But  what  shall  I  do  with  it?"  inquired  Ekke- 
hard. 

"That  you  must  know  better  than  I.    You  can 

i68  I 


Ekkehard 

have  them  polished,  and  adorn  your  great  books 
with  them.    Will  you  now  give  me  the  spell?" 

Ekkehard  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  boy. 
"Thou  oughtest  to  become  a  miner,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  go. 

But  Audif ax  held  him  fast  by  his  garment. 

"No,  you  must  first  teach  me  something  out  of 
your  book." 

"What  shall  I  teach  you?" 

"The  most  powerful  charm." 

An  inclination  to  allow  himself  an  innocent  joke 
now  came  into  Ekkehard's  serious  mind.  "Come 
along  with  me  then,  and  thou  shalt  have  the  most 
powerful  charm." 

Joyfully  Audifax  went  with  him.  Then  Ekke- 
hard laughingly  told  him  the  following  words  out 
of  Virgil: 

"Auri  sacra  fames,  quid  non  mortalia  cogis  pectora  ?" 

With  stubborn  patience,  Audifax  repeated  the 
foreign  words  over  and  over  again,  until  he  had 
fixed  them  in  his  memory. 

"Please  to  write  it  down,  that  I  may  wear  it  on 
me,"  he  now  entreated. 

Ekkehard,  wishing  to  complete  the  joke,  wrote 
the  words  on  a  thin  strip  of  parchment,  and  gave 
it  to  the  boy,  who,  gleefully  hiding  it  in  his  breast- 
pocket, again  kissed  his  garment,  and  then  darted 

169 

Vol.  3  (A)— 8 


Ekkehard 

off,  with  innumerable  mad  gambols,  outrivaling 
the  merriest  of  his  goats. 

"This  child  holds  Virgil  in  greater  honor  than 
the  Duchess,"  thought  Ekkehard  to  himself. 

At  noontide  Audifax  was  again  sitting  on  his 
rock;  but  this  time  there  were  no  tears  glistening 
in  his  timid  eyes.  For  the  first  time,  after  a  long 
while,  his  pipe  was  taken  out,  and  the  wind  carried 
its  notes  into  the  valley,  where  they  reached  his 
friend  Hadumoth,  who  came  over  at  once,  and  gaily 
asked  him:  "Shall  we  make  soap-bubbles  again?" 

"I  will  make  no  more  soap-bubbles,"  said  Audi- 
fax,  and  resumed  his  pipe-blowing;  but  after  a 
while  he  looked  about  carefully,  and  then  drawing 
Hadumoth  quite  close  to  him,  he  whispered  in  her 
ear,  his  eyes  glistening  strangely:  "I  have  been  to 
see  the  holy  man.  This  night  we  will  seek  the 
treasure.  Thou  must  go  with  me."  Hadumoth 
readily  promised. 

In  the  servants'  hall  the  supper  was  finished; 
and  now  they  all  rose  from  their  benches  at  the 
same  time  and  arranged  themselves  in  a  long  file. 
At  the  bottom  stood  Audifax  and  Hadumoth,  and 
it  was  the  latter  who  used  to  say  the  prayers  before 
these  rough  but  well-meaning  folks.  Her  voice 
was  rather  trembling  this  time. 

Before  the  table  had  been  cleared  two  shadows 
glided  out  by  the  yet  unlocked  gate.  They  be- 
longed to  Hadumoth  and  Audifax,  the  latter  going 

170 


Ekkehard 

on  before.  "The  night  will  be  cold,"  he  said, 
throwing  a  long-haired  goatskin  over  her. 

On  the  southern  side  where  the  mountain  wall 
is  steepest  there  was  an  old  rampart.  Here  Audi- 
fax  stopped,  as  it  afforded  them  a  shelter  against 
the  keen  night-wind  of  autumn.  He  stretched  out 
his  arm  and  said:  "I  think  this  must  be  the  place. 
We  have  yet  to  wait  a  long  time  till  midnight." 

Hadumoth  said  nothing.  The  two  children  sat 
down  side  by  side.  The  moon  had  risen,  and  sent 
her  trembling  light  through  airy,  scattered  cloud- 
lets. In  the  castle  some  windows  were  lighted  up; 
the  monk  and  the  Duchess  were  again  reading  out 
of  their  Virgil.  Everything  was  quiet  and  motion- 
less around ;  only  at  rare  intervals  the  hoarse  shriek 
of  an  owl  was  heard.  After  a  long  while  Hadu- 
moth timidly  said:  "How  will  it  be,  Audifax?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer.  "Somebody 
will  come  and  bring  it;  or  the  earth  will  open,  and 
we  must  descend;  or — " 

"Be  quiet;  I  am  frightened." 

After  another  long  interval,  during  which 
Hadumoth  had  slumbered  peacefully,  her  head 
resting  on  Audifax's  bosom,  the  latter,  rubbing  his 
eyes  hard  to  drive  away  sleepiness,  now  awakened 
his  companion. 

"Hadumoth,"  said  he,  "the  night  is  long;  wilt 
thou  not  tell  me  something?" 

"Something  evil  has  come  into  my  mind,"  re- 

171 


Ekkehard 

plied  she.  "There  was  once  a  man  who  went  out 
in  the  early  morning,  at  sunrise,  to  plow  his  field; 
and  there  he  found  the  gold-dwarf,  standing  in  a 
furrow  and  grinning  at  him,  who  spoke  thus: 
'Take  me  with  you.  He  who  does  not  seek  us  shall 
have  us ;  but  he  who  seeketh  us  we  strangle.  .  .  . ' 
Audifax,  I  am  so  frightened." 

"Give  me  thy  hand,"  said  Audifax,  "and  have 
courage." 

The  lights  on  the  castle  had  all  died  out.  The 
hollow  bugle-notes  of  the  watchman  on  the  tower 
announced  midnight.  Then  Audifax  knelt  down, 
and  Hadumoth  beside  him.  The  former  had  taken 
off  his  wooden  shoe  from  his  right  foot,  so  that  the 
naked  sole  touched  the  dark  earth.  The  parch- 
ment strip  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  with  a  clear, 
firm  voice  he  pronounced  the  words,  the  meaning 
of  which  he  did  not  understand: 

"Auri  sacra  fames,  quid  non  mortalia  cogis  pectora." 

He  remembered  them  well.  And  on  their  knees 
the  two  remained,  waiting  for  that  which  was  to 
come.  But  there  came  neither  dwarf  nor  giant, 
and  the  ground  did  not  open  either.  The  stars  over 
their  heads  glittered  coldly,  and  the  chill  night-air 
blew  into  their  faces.  Yet  a  faith  so  strong  and 
deep  as  that  of  the  two  children  ought  not  to  be 
laughed  at,  even  if  it  can  not  remove  mountains  or 
bring  up  treasures  from  the  deep. 

172 


Ekkehard 

Now  a  strange  light  was  seen  on  the  firmament. 
A  shooting-star,  marking  its  way  by  a  trailing  line 
of  light,  fell  down,  followed  by  many  others.  "It 
is  coming  from  above,"  whispered  Audifax,  con- 
vulsively pressing  the  little  maiden  to  his  side. 
^^Auri  sacra  fames  .  .  ."  he  called  out  once  more 
into  the  night.  Then  the  golden  lines  crossed  each 
other,  and  soon  one  meteor  after  another  became 
extinguished,  and  everything  in  the  sky  was  again 
quiet  as  before. 

Audifax  looked  with  anxious  eyes  around ;  then 
he  rose  sorrowfully,  and  said  in  faltering  tones : 
"  'Tis  nothing ;  they  have  fallen  into  the  lake. 
They  grudge  us  everything.  We  shall  remain 
poor." 

"Hast  thou  said  the  words  which  the  holy  man 
gave  thee  quite  right?" 

"Exactly  so  as  he  taught  me." 

"Then  he  has  not  told  thee  the  right  spell. 
Probably  he  wants  to  find  the  treasure  for  himself. 
Perhaps  he  has  put  a  net  in  the  place  where  the 
stars  fell  down." 

"No,  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Audifax.  "His 
face  is  mild  and  good,  and  his  lips  are  not  de- 
ceitful." 

Hadumoth  was  thoughtful. 

"Perhaps  he  does  not  know  the  right  words?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  he  has  not  got  the  right  God.     He 

173 


Ekkehard 

prays  to  the  new  God.    The  old  gods  were  great 
and  strong  also." 

Audifax  pressed  his  fingers  on  the  lips  of  his 
companion.    "Be  silent." 

"I  am  no  longer  afraid,"  said  Hadumoth.  "I 
know  some  one  else  who  knows  all  about  spells 
and  charms." 

"Who  is  it?" 

Hadumoth  pointed  to  a  steep,  dark  mountain 
opposite.    "The  woman  of  the  wood,"  replied  she. 

"The  woman  of  the  wood?"  repeated  Audifax 
aghast.  "She  who  made  the  great  thunderstorm 
when  the  hailstones  fell  as  big  as  pigeon's  eggs 
into  the  fields,  and  who  has  eaten  up  the  Count  of 
Hilzingen,  who  never  returned  home?" 

"Just  on  account  of  that.  We  will  ask  her.  The 
castle  will  still  be  closed  for  some  hours,  and  the 
night  is  cold." 

The  little  goose-girl  had  become  bold  and  ad- 
venturous; for  her  sympathy  with  Audifax  was 
great,  and  she  wanted  so  much  to  help  him  to  the 
fulfilment  of  his  wishes.  "Come,"  said  she  eagerly, 
"if  thou  art  frightened  in  the  dark  wood,  thou 
canst  blow  on  thy  pipe ;  and  the  birds  will  answer 
thee,  for  it  will  soon  be  dawn."  | 

Audifax  did  not  raise  any  further  objection.    So 
they  walked  on  northward,  through  the  dark  fir, 
wood.    They  both  knew  the  path  well.    Not  a  hu- 
man creature  was  stirring  about;  only  an  old  fox, 

174 


Ekkehard 

lying  in  ambush  for  some  rabbit  or  partridge, 
caught  sight  of  them,  and  was  as  little  satisfied 
with  their  appearance  as  they  had  been  with  the 
shooting-stars.  Foxes  also  have  to  bear  their  dis- 
appointments in  life;  therefore  it  drew  in  its  tail 
and  hid  itself  in  the  bushes. 

The  two  children  had  gone  on  for  about  an  hour, 
when  they  reached  the  top  of  the  Hohenkrahen. 
Hidden  among  trees,  there  stood  a  small  stone  hut, 
before  which  they  stopped.  "The  dog  is  sure  to 
bark,"  said  Hadumoth.  But  no  bark  was  heard. 
They  approached  nearer  and  saw  that  the  door 
stood  wide  open. 

"The  woman  of  the  wood  is  gone,"  they  said. 
But  on  the  high  rock  on  the  Hohenkrahen,  a  small 
fire  was  still  faintly  burning;  and  dark  shadows 
could  be  seen  gliding  about  it.  Then  the  children 
crept  along  the  steep  path  leading  up  to  the  rock. 

The  first  gleam  of  the  coming  dawn  was  already 
visible  over  the  Bodensee.  The  path  was  very  nar- 
row, and  a  projecting  piece  of  rock,  over  which  a 
mighty  oak  tree  spread  out  its  branches,  hid  the 
fire  from  their  view.  There  Audifax  and  Hadu- 
moth cowered  down  and  peeped  round  the  corner. 
Then  they  saw  that  some  big  animal  had  been 
killed.  A  head,  apparently  that  of  a  horse,  was 
nailed  to  the  stem  of  the  oak;  and  weapons  as  well 
as  a  quantity  of  bones  lay  scattered  about,  while  a 
vase  filled  with  blood  stood  beside  the  fire. 

175  '  I 


Ekkehard 

•Around  a  roughly  hewn  piece  of  rock,  serving 
j^s  a  table,  a  number  of  men  were  sitting.    On  it 
stood  a  big  kettle  of  beer,  out  of  which  they  filled 
and  refilled  their  stone  jugs. 

At  the  foot  of  the  oak  sat  a  woman,  who  was  cer- 
tainly not  so  lovely  as  the  Allemannic  virgin  Bis- 
sula,  who  inflamed  the  heart  of  the  Roman  states- 
man Ausonius,  in  spite  of  his  age,  to  such  a  degree 
that  he  went  about  in  his  prefecture  declaiming 
poetry  in  her  praise:  "Her  eyes  are  blue  as  the  color 
of  the  Heavens,  and  like  gold  is  her  wavy  hair.  Su- 
perior to  all  the  dolls  of  Latium  is  she,  a  child  of 
the  barbarians;  and  he  who  wants  to  paint  her 
must  blend  the  rose  with  the  lily."  The  woman  on 
the  Hohenkrahen  was  old  and  haggard.  ! 

The  men  were  looking  at  her,  while  the  dawn 
was  rapidly  spreading  in  the  east.  The  mists  hang- 
ing over  the  Bodensee  began  to  move,  and  now  the  I 
sun  was  casting  his  first  rays  on  the  hills,  burnish-  : 
ing  their  tops  with  gold.  The  fiery  ball  itself  had 
just  risen  on  the  horizon,  when  the  woman  jumped 
up,  the  men  following  her  example.  She  swung 
a  bunch  of  mistletoe  and  fir-tree  branches  over  her 
head,  and  then,  dipping  it  into  the  vase,  three  times 
sprinkled  the  bloody  drops  toward  the  sun,  three 
times  also  over  the  men,  and  then  poured  out  the 
contents  of  the  vase  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  i 

The  men  all  seized  their  jugs,  and  rubbing  them 
in  a  monotonous  way  three  times  on  the  smooth 

176 


Ekkehard 

surface  of  the  rock,  to  produce  a  strange  humming 
noise,  lifted  them  together  toward  the  sun,  and  then 
drained  them  at  one  draft.  The  putting  them 
down  again  sounded  like  one  single  blow,  so  simul- 
taneous was  the  movement.  After  this  every  one 
put  on  his  mantle,  and  then  they  all  went  silently 
down  hill. 

It  was  the  first  night  of  November. 

When  all  had  become  quiet  again,  the  children 
stepped  out  of  their  hiding-place,  and  confronted 
the  old  woman.  Audifax  had  taken  out  the  slip  of 
parchment,  but  the  hag,  snatching  up  a  brand  out 
of  the  fire,  approached  them  with  a  threatening 
look,  so  that  the  children  hastily  turned*  round  and 
fled  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  their  feet  could  carry 
them. 

CHAPTER   IX 

THE   WOMAN  OF   THE    WOOD 

Audifax  and  Hadumoth  had  returned  to  the 
castle  on  the  Hohentwiel  without  anybody  having 
noticed  their  having  made  this  night  expedition. 
They  did  not  speak  of  their  adventures,  even  to 
each  other;  but  Audifax  brooded  over  them  night 
and  day.  He  became  rather  negligent  in  his 
duties,  so  that  one  of  his  flock  got  lost  in  the  hilly 
ground  near  where  the  Rhine  flows  out  of  the 
Bodensee.    So  Audifax  went  to  look  for  the  goat; 

-^77 


Ekkehard 

and  after  spending  a  whole  day  in  the  pursuit,  he 
triumphantly  returned  with  the  truant  in  the 
evening. 

Hadumoth  welcomed  him  joyfully,  delighted  at 
his  success,  which  saved  him  from  a  whipping.  By 
and  by  the  winter  came,  and  the  animals  remained 
in  their  respective  stalls.  One  day  the  two  chil- 
dren were  sitting  alone  before  the  fireplace  in  the 
servants'  hall. 

"Dost  thou  still  think  of  the  treasure  and  the 
spell?"  said  Hadumoth. 

Then  Audif  ax  drew  closer  to  her  and  whispered 
mysteriously:  "The  holy  man  has,  after  all,  got  the 
right  God/' 

"Why  so?"  asked  Hadumoth.  He  ran  away  to 
his  chamber,  where,  hidden  in  the  straw  of  his  mat- 
tress, were  a  number  of  different  stones.  He  took 
out  one  of  these  and  brought  it  to  her. 

"Look  here,"  he  said.  It  was  a  piece  of  gray 
mica-slate,  containing  the  remains  of  a  fish;  the 
delicate  outlines  of  which  were  clearly  visible. 
"That's  what  I  found  at  the  foot  of  the  Schiener 
mountain  when  I  went  to  look  for  the  goat. 
That  must  come  from  the  great  flood,  which 
Father  Vincentius  once  preached  about;  and  this 
flood  the  Lord  of  Heaven  and  Earth  sent  over  the 
world  when  He  told  Noah  to  build  the  big  ship. 
Of  all  this  the  woman  of  the  wood  knows  nothing." 

Hadumoth  became  thoughtful.    "Then  it  must 

178  ; 


Ekkehard 

be  her  fault  that  the  stars  did  not  fall  into  our  lap. 
Let  us  go  and  complain  of  her  to  the  holy  man." 

So  they  went  to  Ekkehard,  and  told  him  all 
that  they  had  beheld  that  night  on  the  Hohenkra- 
hen.  He  listened  kindly  to  their  tale,  which  he 
repeated  to  the  Duchess  in  the  evening.  Dame 
Hadwig  smiled. 

"They  have  a  peculiar  state,  my  faithful  sub- 
jects," said  she.  "Everywhere  handsome  churches 
have  been  erected,  in  which  the  Gospel  is  preached 
to  them.  Fine  church  music,  great  festivals,  and 
processions  through  the  waving  corn-fields,  with 
cross  and  flag  at  their  head — all  this  does  not  con- 
tent them.  So  they  must  needs  sit  on  their  moun- 
tain-tops on  cold,  chilly  nights,  not  understanding 
what  they're  about,  except  that  they  drink  beer. 
'Tis  really  wonderful.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
matter,  pious  Master  Ekkehard?" 

"It  is  superstition,"  replied  he,  "which  the  Evil 
One  sows  in  weak  and  rebellious  hearts.  I  have 
read  in  our  books  about  the  doings  of  the  heathens, 
how  they  perform  their  idolatrous  rites  in  dark 
woods,  by  lonely  wells,  and  even  at  the  graves  of 
their  dead." 

"But  they  are  no  longer  heathens,"  said  Dame 
Hadwig.  "They  are  all  baptized  and  belong  to 
some  parish  church.  But  nevertheless  some  of  the 
old  traditions  still  live  among  them;  and  though 
these  have  lost  tHeir  meaning,  they  yet  run  through 

179 


Ekkehard 

their  thoughts  and  actions,  as  the  Rhine  does  in 
winter,  flowing  noiselessly  on,  under  the  icy  cover 
of  the  Bodensee.    What  would  you  do  with  them?" 

''Annihilate  them,"  said  Ekkehard.  "He  who 
forsakes  his  Christian  faith  and  breaks  the  vows  of 
his  baptism  shall  be  eternally  damned." 

''Not  so  fast,  my  young  zealot!"  continued  Dame 
Hadwig.  "My  good  Hegau  people  are  not  to  lose 
their  heads  because  they  prefer  sitting  on  the  cold 
top  of  the  Hohenkrahen,  on  the  first  night  of  No- 
vember, to  lying  on  their  straw  mattresses.  For  all 
that  they  do  their  duties  well  enough,  and  fought 
under  Charlemagne  against  the  heathenish  Saxons, 
as  if  every  one  of  them  had  been  a  chosen  com- 
batant of  the  Church  itself." 

"With  the  Devil  there  can  be  no  peace,"  cried 
Ekkehard  hotly.  "Are  you  going  to  be  lukewarm 
in  your  faith,  noble  Mistress?" 

"In  reigning  over  a  country,"  returned  she  with 
a  slight  sarcasm  in  her  voice,  "one  learns  a  good 
deal  that  is  not  written  down  in  books.  Don't  you 
know  that  a  weak  man  is  often  more  easily  defeated 
by  his  own  weakness  than  by  the  sharpness  of  the 
sword?  When  the  holy  Gallus  one  day  visited  the 
ruins  of  Bregenz,  he  found  the  altar  of  St.  Aurelia 
destroyed,  and  in  its  place  three  metal  idols 
erected ;  and  around  the  great  beer-kettle  the  men 
sat  drinking;  for  this  is  a  ceremony  which  is  never 
omitted  when  our  Suabians  wish  to  show  their 

i8o 


Ekkehard 

piety  in  the  old  fashion.  The  holy  Gallus  did  not 
hurt  a  single  man  among  them;  but  he  cut  their 
idols  to  pieces,  threw  them  into  the  green  waves  of 
the  lake,  and  made  a  large  hole  into  their  beer- 
kettle.  On  this  very  spot  he  preached  the  Gospel 
to  them,  and  when  they  saw  that  no  fire  fell  down 
from  the  heavens  to  destroy  him,  they  were  con- 
vinced that  their  gods  were  powerless,  and  so  be- 
came converted.  So  you  see  that  to  be  sensible 
is  not  to  be  lukewarm." 

"That  was  in  those  times,"  began  Ekkehard,  but 
Dame  Hadwig  continued :  "And  now  the  Church 
has  been  established  from  the  source  of  the  Rhine 
to  the  North  Sea,  and,  far  stronger  than  the  ancient 
castles  of  the  Romans,  a  chain  of  monasteries,  for- 
tresses of  the  Christian  faith,  runs  through  the 
land.  Even  into  the  recesses  of  the  Black  Forest 
the  Gospel  has  penetrated ;  so  why  should  we  wage 
war  so  fiercely  against  the  miserable  stragglers  of 
the  olden  times?" 

"Then  you  had  better  reward  them,"  said  Ekke- 
hard bitterly. 

"Reward  them?"  quoth  the  Duchess.  "Between 
the  one  and  the  other  there  is  still  many  an  expe- 
dient left.  Perhaps  it  were  better  if  we  put  a  stop 
to  these  nightly  trespasses.  No  realm  can  be  pow- 
erful in  which  two  different  creeds  exist,  for  that 
leads  to  internal  warfare,  which  is  rather  danger- 
ous as  long  as  there  are  plenty  of  outward  enemies. 

i8i 


Ekkehard 

Besides,  the  laws  of  the  land  have  forbidden  them 
these  follies,  and  they  must  find  out  that  our  ordi- 
nances and  prohibitions  are  not  to  be  tampered 
with  in  that  way." 

Ekkehard  did  not  seem  to  be  satisfied  yet;  a 
shadow  of  displeasure  being  still  visible  on  his 
countenance. 

"Tell  me,"  continued  the  Duchess,  "what  is 
your  opinion  of  witchcraft  in  general?" 

"Witchcraft,"  said  Ekkehard  seriously,  taking 
a  deep  breath,  which  seemed  to  denote  the  inten- 
tion of  indulging  in  a  longer  speech  than  usual — 
"witchcraft  is  a  damnable  art,  by  which  human 
beings  make  treaties  with  the  demons  inhabiting 
the  elements,  whose  workings  in  nature  are  every- 
where traceable,  rendering  them  subservient  by 
these  compacts.  Even  in  lifeless  things  there  are 
latent  living  powers,  which  we  neither  hear  nor 
see,  but  which  often  tempt  careless  and  unguarded 
minds  to  wish  to  know  more  and  to  attain  greater 
power  than  is  granted  to  a  faithful  servant  of  the 
Lord.  That  is  the  old  sorcery  of  the  serpent;  and 
he  who  holds  communion  with  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness may  obtain  part  of  their  power,  but  he  reigns 
over  the  devils  by  Beelzebub  himself,  and  becomes 
his  property,  when  his  time  is  at  an  end.  There- 
fore witchcraft  is  as  old  as  sin  itself,  and  instead  of 
the  one  true  faith,  the  belief  in  the  Trinity  reign- 
ing paramount,  fortune-tellers  and  interpreters  of 

182 


Ekkehard 

dreams,  wandering  actors  and  expounders  of  rid- 
dles, still  infest  the  world;  and  their  partizans  are 
to  be  found  above  all  among  the  daughters  of 
Eve." 

"You  are  really  getting  polite!"  exclaimed 
Dame  Hadwig. 

"For  the  minds  of  women,"  continued  Ekke- 
hard, "have  in  all  times  been  curious  and  eager  to 
attain  forbidden  knowledge.  As  we  shall  proceed 
with  our  reading  of  Virgil,  you  will  see  the  excess 
of  witchcraft  embodied  in  a  woman  called  Circe, 
who  passed  her  days,  singing,  on  a  rocky  headland. 
Burning  chips  of  sweet-scented  cedar-wood  lighten 
up  her  dark  chambers,  where  she  is  industriously 
throwing  the  shuttle,  and  weaving  beautiful  tapes- 
try; but  outside  in  the  yard  is  heard  the  melancholy 
roaring  of  lions  and  tigers,  as  well  as  the  grunting 
of  swine,  which  were  formerly  men  whom,  by  ad- 
ministering to  them  her  potent  magic  philtres,  she 
has  changed  into  brutes." 

"I  declare,  you  are  talking  like  a  book,"  said 
the  Duchess  pointedly.  "You  really  ought  to  ex- 
tend your  study  of  witchcraft.  To-morrow  you 
shall  ride  over  to  the  Hohenkrahen  and  find  out 
whether  the  woman  of  the  wood  is  a  Circe  also. 
We  give  you  full  authority  to  act  in  our  name,  and 
are  truly  curious  to  ascertain  what  your  wisdom 
will  decree." 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  reign  over  a  people  and 

•83 


Ekkehard 

to  settle  the  affairs  of  this  world,"  replied  he 
evasively. 

"That  we  shall  see,"  said  Duchess  Hadwig.  "I 
do  not  think  that  the  power  of  commanding  has 
ever  embarrassed  any  one,  least  of  all  a  son  of  the 
Church." 

So  Ekkehard  submitted,  the  more  readily  as  the 
commission  was  a  proof  of  confidence  on  her  part. 
Early  the  next  morning  he  rode  over  to  the  Hohen- 
krahen  on  horseback,  taking  Audif  ax  with  him,  to 
show  him  the  way. 

"A  happy  journey.  Sir  Chancellor!"  called  out 
a  laughing  voice  behind  him.  It  was  the  voice  of 
Praxedis. 

They  soon  reached  the  old  hag's  dwelling,  which 
was  a  stone  hut  built  on  a  projecting  part  of  the 
high  rock,  about  half-way  up.  Mighty  oaks  and 
beech-trees  spread  their  boughs  over  it,  hiding  the 
summit  of  the  Hohenkrahen.  Three  high  stone 
steps  led  into  the  inside,  which  was  a  dark  but  airy 
chamber.  On  the  floor  there  lay  heaps  of  dried 
herbs,  giving  out  a  strong  fragrance.  Three 
bleached  horses'  skulls  grinned  down  fantastically 
from  the  walls,  while  beneath  them  hung  the  huge 
antlers  of  a  stag.  In  the  door-post  was  cut  a  double, 
intricate  triangle;  and  on  the  floor,  a  tame  wood- 
pecker and  a  raven  with  cropped  wings  were  hop- 
ping about. 

The  inhabitant  of  this  abode  was  seated  beside 

184 


Ekkehard 

the  flickering  fire  on  the  hearth,  sewing  some  gar- 
ment. By  her  side  stood  a  high,  roughly  hewn, 
weather-beaten  stone.  From  time  to  time  she  bent 
down  to  the  hearth  and  held  out  her  meagre  hand 
over  the  coals ;  for  the  cold  of  November  was  be- 
ginning to  be  felt,  especially  on  the  mountains. 
The  boughs  of  an  old  beech  tree  came  almost  into 
the  room  through  the  window.  A  faint  breeze  was 
stirring  them ;  and  the  leaves,  being  withered  and 
sere,  trembled  and  fell  off,  a  few  of  them  falling 
right  into  the  chamber. 

The  woman  of  the  wood  was  old  and  lonely, 
and  probably  suffering  from  the  cold. 

.  "There  you  are  lying  now,  despised  and  faded 
and  dead,"  she  said  to  the  leaves;  "and  I  am  like 
you."  A  peculiar  expression  now  came  to  her  old 
wrinkled  face.  She  was  thinking  of  former  times, 
when  she  also  had  been  young  and  blooming,  and 
had  had  a  sweetheart  of  her  own.  But  his  fate 
had  driven  him  far  away  from  his  native  fir  woods. 
Plundering  Normans,  coming  up  the  Rhine,  rob- 
bing and  burning  wherever  they  came,  had  carried 
him  off  as  a  prisoner,  like  so  many  others ;  and  he 
had  stayed  with  them  more  than  a  year,  and  had 
become  a  seaman,  and  in  the  rough  sea-air  he  had 
got  to  be  rough  and  hard  also.  When  at  last  they 
gave  him  his  liberty,  and  he  returned  to  his  Sua:- 
bian  woods,  he  still  carried  with  him  the  longing 
for  the  North  Sea,  and  pined  for  his  wild  sailor 

185 


Ekkehard 

life.  The  home-faces  were  no  longer  pleasant  to 
his  eyes,  those  of  the  monks  and  priests  least  of  all; 
and  as  misfortune  would  have  it,  in  the  heat  of  pas- 
sion he  slew  a  monk  who  had  upbraided  him,  80 
that  he  could  no  longer  remain  in  his  home. 

The  thoughts  of  the  old  woman  were  constantly 
recurring  that  day  to  the  hour  when  he  had  parted 
from  her  forever.  Then  the  servants  of  the  judge 
led  him  to  his  cottage  in  the  wood  of  Weiterdingen, 
and  exacted  six  hundred  shillings  from  him,  as  a 
fine  for  the  man  he  had  slain.  Then  he  had  to 
swear  a  great  oath  that,  besides  his  cottage  and  acre, 
he  had  nothing  left,  either  above  or  underground. 

After  that  he  went  into  his  house,  took  a  hand- 
ful of  earth,  and  threw  it  with  his  left  hand  over 
his  shoulder  at  his  father's  brother,  for  a  sign  that 
his  debt  was  thus  to  pass  on  to  this  his  only  remain- 
ing relation  by  blood.  That  done,  he  seized  his 
staff,  and,  clad  in  his  linen  shirt,  without  shoes  or 
girdle,  he  jumped  over  the  fence  of  his  acre,  for 
such  was  the  custom,  and  thus  he  became  a  home- 
less wanderer,  free  to  go  out  into  the  wilderness. 
So  he  went  back  to  Denmark  to  his  own  Northmen, 
and  never  returned  any  more.  All  that  had  ever 
reached  her  was  a  dark  rumor  that  he  had  gone 
over  with  them  to  Seeland,  where  the  brave  sea- 
kings,  refusing  to  adopt  the  Christian  faith  with  its 
new  laws,  had  founded  a  new  home  for  themselves. 

All  this  had  happened  long,  long  ago;  but  the 

i86 


Ekkehard 

old  woman  remembered  it  all,  as  if  it  were  but 
yesterday  that  she  had  seen  her  Friduhelm  going 
away  from  her  forever.  Then  she  had  hung  up  a 
garland  of  vervain  at  the  little  chapel  of  Weiter- 
dingen,  shedding  many  tears  over  it;  and  never  had 
another  lover  been  able  to  efface  his  image  from 
her  heart.  The  cold  dreary  November  weather 
reminded  her  of  an  old  Norman  song  which  he 
had  once  taught  her  and  which  she  now  hummed 
to  herself: 

"The  evening  comes,  and  winter  is  near, 
The  hoar-frost  on  fir  trees  is  lying ; 
Oh  book,  and  cross  and  prayers  of  monk — 
How  soon  shall  we  all  be  a-dying! 

"Our  homes  are  getting  so  dusky  and  old 
And  the  holy  wells  desecrated, 
Thou  god-inhabited,  beautiful  wood, 
Wilt  thou,  even  thou  be  prostrated? 

"And  silent  we  go,  a  defeated  tribe. 
Whose  stars  are  all  dying  and  sinking, 
Oh  Iceland,  thou  icy  rock  in  the  sea, 
With  thee  our  fates  we'll  be  linking. 

"Arise  and  receive  our  wandering  race, 
Which  is  coming  to  thee,  and  bringing 
The  ancient  gods  and  the  ancient  rites, 
To  which  our  hearts  are  still  clinging. 

187 


Ekkehard 

"Where  the  fiery  hill  is  shedding  its  light, 
And  the  breakers  are  shoreward  sweeping,  | 

On  thee,  thou  defiant  end  of  the  world ! 
Our  last  long  watch  we'll  be  keeping."  | 

■  .  "  ■  '  '-  i 

Ekkehard  meanwhile  had  got  down  from  the 
saddle  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  neighboring  fir 
tree.  He  now  stepped  over  the  threshold,  shyly 
followed  by  Audif ax. 

The  woman  of  the  wood  threw  the  garment  she 
had  been  working  at  over  the  stone,  folded  her 
hands  on  her  lap,  and  looked  fixedly  at  the  in- 
truder in  his  monk's  habit,  but  did  not  get  up.        i 

"Praised  be  Jesus  Christ,"  said  Ekkehard,  by 
way  of  greeting,  and  also  to  avert  any  possible  spell. 
Instinctively  he  drew  in  the  thumb  of  his  right 
hand,  doubling  his  fingers  over  it,  being  afraid  of 
the  evil  eye  and  its  powers.  Audifax  had  told 
him  how  people  said  that  with  one  look  she  could 
wither  up  a  whole  meadow.  She  did  not  return  his 
greeting. 

"What  are  you  doing  there?"  began  Ekkehard. 

"I  am  mending  an  old  garment  that  is  getting 
worn,"  was  the  answer.  , 

"You  have  been  also  gathering  herbs?"  j 

"I  have.  Are  you  an  herb-gatherer?  Here  are 
many  of  them,  if  you  wish  for  any.  Hawk-weed 
and  snail-clover,  goat's-beard  and  mouse-ear,  as 
well  as  dried  woodruflF."  { 

i88  i 


Ekkehard 

"I  am  no  herb-gatherer,"  said  Ekkehard. 
"What  use  do  you  make  of  those  herbs?" 

"Need  you  be  asking  what  is  the  use  of  herbs?" 
said  the  old  woman.  "Such  as  you  know  that  well 
enough.  It  would  fare  ill  with  sick  people  and 
sick  hearts,  and  with  our  protection  against  nightly 
sprites,  as  well  as  the  stillings  of  lovers'  longings,  if 
there  were  no  herbs  to  be  had!" 

"And  have  you  been  baptized?"  continued 
Ekkehard. 

"Ay,  they  will  have  baptized  me,  likely  enough." 

"And  if  you  have  been  baptized,"  he  said,  rais- 
ing his  voice,  "and  have  renounced  the  devil  with 
all  his  works  and  allurements,  what  is  the  mean- 
ing of  all  this?"  He  pointed  with  his  stick  toward 
the  horses'  skulls  on  the  wall,  and  giving  a  violent 
push  to  one,  caused  it  to  fall  down  on  the  floor, 
where  it  broke  to  pieces,  so  that  the  white  teeth 
rolled  about  on  the  ground. 

"The  skull  of  a  horse,"  quietly  replied  the  old 
woman,  "which  you  have  shivered  to  pieces.  It 
was  a  young  animal,  as  you  may  see  by  the  teeth." 

"And  you  like  to  eat  horse-flesh?" 

"It  is  no  impure  animal,  nor  is  it  forbidden  to 
eat  it." 

"Woman!"  cried  Ekkehard,  approaching  her 
closer,  "thou  exercisest  witchcraft  and  sorcery!" 

Then  she  arose  and  with  a  frowning  brow  and 
strangely  glittering  eyes  she  said:  "You  wear  a 

189 


Ekkehard 

priest's  garment,  so  you  may  say  this  to  me;  for 
an  old  woman  has  no  protection  against  such  as 
you.  Otherwise  it  were  a  grave  insult  which  you 
have  cast  on  me,  and  the  laws  of  the  land  punish 
those  that  use  such  words.  .    .    ." 

During  this  conversation,  Audif  ax  had  remained 
timidly  standing  at  the  door,  but  when  the  raven 
now  made  its  way  toward  him,  he  was  afraid 
and  ran  up  to  Ekkehard;  from  thence  he  saw  the 
stone  by  the  hearth,  and  walked  up  to  it;  for 
the  fear  even  of  twenty  ravens  would  not  have 
prevented  him  from  examining  a  curious  stone. 
Lifting  the  garment  which  was  spread  over  it, 
he  beheld  some  strange,  weather-beaten  figures 
carved  on  it. 

At  that  moment  Ekkehard's  eye  fell  also  on  the 
stone.  It  was  a  Roman  altar,  and  had  doubtless 
been  erected  on  those  heights  by  cohorts,  who  at 
the  command  of  their  Emperor  had  left  their  camp 
in  luxurious  Asia  for  the  inhospitable  shores  of 
the  Bodensee.  A  youth,  in  a  flowing  mantle  and 
with  Phrygian  cap,  was  kneeling  on  a  prostrate 
bull — the  Persian  god  of  light,  Mithras,  who  gave 
new  hope  and  strength  to  the  fast  sinking  faith  of 
the  Romans. 

An  inscription  was  nowhere  visible.  For  a 
considerable  time  Ekkehard  stood  examining  it; 
for  with  the  exception  of  a  golden  coin  bear- 
ing the  head  of  Vespasian,  which  had  been  found 

IQO 


Ekkehard 

in  the  moor  at  Rapperswyl  by  some  dependents  of 
the  monastery,  and  some  carved  stones  among  the 
church  treasures,  his  eye  had  never  before  beheld 
any  carving  of  the  olden  times ;  but  from  the  shape 
and  look  of  the  thing  he  guessed  at  its  being  some 
silent  witness  of  a  bygone  world. 

'Whence  comes  the  stone?"  asked  he. 

"I  have  been  questioned  more  than  enough 
now,"  defiantly  said  the  old  woman.  "Find  an 
answer  for  yourself." 

The  stone  might  have  said  a  good  deal  for  itself, 
if  stones  were  gifted  with  speech,  for  a  goodly 
piece  of  history  often  clings  to  such  old  and 
weather-beaten  ruins.  What  do  they  teach  us? 
That  the  races  of  men  come  and  go  like  the  leaves, 
that  spring  produces  and  autumn  destroys,  and 
that  all  their  thinkings  and  doings  last  but  a  short 
span  of  time.  After  them  there  come  others,  talk- 
ing in  other  tongues  and  creating  other  forms. 
That  which  was  holy  before  is  then  pulled  down 
and  despised,  and  that  which  was  condemned  be- 
comes holy  in  its  place.  New  gods  mount  the 
throne,  and  it  is  well  if  their  altars  are  not  erected 
on  the  bodies  of  too  many  victims. 

Ekkehard  saw  another  meaning  in  the  stone's  be- 
ing in  the  hut  of  the  woman  of  the  wood. 

"You  worship  that  man  on  the  bull!"  he  cried 
vehemently.  The  old  woman  took  up  a  stick 
standing  by  the  fireplace,  and  with  a  knife  made 

191 


Ekkehard 

two  notches  in  it.  "  'Tis  the  second  insult  you  have 
offered  me,"  she  said  hoarsely.  "What  have  we 
to  do  with  yonder  stone  image?" 

"Then  speak  out.  How  is  it  that  the  stone  comes 
to  be  here?" 

"Because  we  took  pity  on  it,"  replied  she.  "You, 
who  wear  the  tonsure  and  monk's  habit,  probably 
will  not  understand  that.  The  stone  stood  outside, 
on  yonder  projecting  rock,  which  must  have  been 
a  consecrated  spot  on  which  many  have  knelt, 
probably,  in  the  olden  times.  But  in  the  present 
days  nobody  heeded  it.  The  people  hereabout 
dried  their  crab-apples,  or  split  their  wood  on  it, 
just  as  it  suited  them ;  and  the  cruel  rain  has  been 
washing  away  the  figures.  'The  sight  of  the  stone 
grieves  me,'  said  my  mother  one  day.  'It  was  once 
something  holy,  but  the  bones  of  those  who  have 
known  and  worshiped  the  man  on  it  have  long 
been  bleached  white,  and  the  man  in  the  flowing 
mantle  looks  as  if  he  were  freezing  with  the  cold.' 
So  we  took  it  up,  and  placed  it  beside  the  hearth, 
and  it  has  never  harmed  us  as  yet.  We  know  how 
the  old  gods  feel  when  their  altars  are  shattered; 
for  ours  also  have  been  dethroned.  You  need  not 
begrudge  its  rest  to  the  old  stone." 

"Your  gods?"  said  Ekkehard.  "Who  are  your 
gods?" 

"That  you  ought  to  know  best,  for  you  have 
driven  them  away,  and  banished  them  into  the 

192  i 


Ekkehard 

depths  of  the  lake.  In  the  floods  below,  every- 
thing has  been  buried.  The  ancient  rites  and  the 
ancient  gods!  We  can  see  them  no  more,  and 
know  but  the  places  where  our  fathers  have  wor- 
shiped them,  before  the  Franks  and  the  cowl-bear- 
ing men  had  come.  But  when  the  winds  are 
shaking  the  tops  of  yonder  oak  tree,  you  may  hear 
their  wailing  voices  in  the  air;  and  on  consecrated 
nights  there  is  a  moaning  and  roaring  in  the  forest, 
and  a  shining  of  lights,  while  serpents  are  winding 
themselves  round  the  stems  of  the  trees;  and  over 
the  mountains  you  hear  a  rustling  of  wings,  of 
despairing  spirits,  that  have  come  to  look  at  their 
ancient  home." 

Ekkehard  crossed  himself. 

"I  tell  it  thus  as  I  know  it,"  continued  the  old 
woman.  "I  do  not  wish  to  offend  the  Saviour,  but 
he  has  come  as  a  stranger  into  the  land.  You  serve 
him  in  a  foreign  tongue,  which  we  can  not  under- 
stand. If  he  had  sprung  up  from  our  own  ground, 
then  we  might  talk  to  him  and  should  be  his  most 
faithful  worshipers,  and  maybe  things  would  then 
fare  better  in  Allemannia." 

"Woman  I"  cried  Ekkehard  wrathf uUy,  *Sve  will 
have  thee  burned  ..." 

"If  it  be  written  in  your  books  that  trees  grow 
up  to  burn  old  women  with,  very  well,  I  have 
lived  long  enough.  The  lightning  has  lately  paid 
a  visit  to  the  woman  of  the  wood" — pointing  to 

193 

Vol.  3  •  (A)— 9 


Ekkehard 

a  dark  stripe  on  the  wall — "the  lightning  has 
spared  the  old  woman." 

After  this  she  cowered  down  before  the  hearth, 
and  remained  there  motionless  like  a  statue.  The 
flickering  coals  threw  a  fitful,  varying  light  on  her 
wrinkled  face. 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  Ekkehard  as  he  left  the  cham- 
ber. Audif  ax  was  very  glad  when  he  could  see  the 
blue  sky  again  over  his  head.  "There  they  sat  to- 
gether," said  he,  pointing  upward. 

"I  will  go  and  look  at  it,  while  thou  goest  back 
to  the  Hohentwiel  and  sendest  over  two  men  with 
axes.  And  tell  Ottfried,  the  deacon  of  Singen,  to 
come  and  bring  his  stole  and  mass-book  with  him." 

Audifax  bounded  away,  while  Ekkehard  went 
up  to  the  top  of  the  Hohenkrahen. 

In  the  castle  on  the  Hohentwiel,  the  Duchess 
had  been  sitting  meanwhile  taking  her  midday 
meal.  She  had  often  looked  about,  as  if  something 
were  missing.  The  meal  was  soon  over,  and  when 
Dame  Hadwig  found  herself  alone  with  Praxedis 
she  began: 

"How  dost  thou  like  our  new  teacher,  Prax- 
edis?" 

The  Greek  maid  smiled. 

"Speak,"  said  the  Duchess  in  a  commanding 
voice. 

"Well,  I  have  seen  many  a  schoolmaster  before 
this  at  Constantinopolis,"  said  Praxedis  flippantly. 

194 


Ekkehard 

Dame  Hadwig  threatened  her  with  her  finger. 
"I  shall  have  to  banish  thee  from  my  sight,  if  thou 
indulgest  in  such  irreverent  speeches.  What  hast 
thou  to  say  against  schoolmasters?" 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Praxedis.  "I  did  not  mean 
any  offense.  But  whenever  I  see  such  a  bookman, 
wearing  such  a  very  serious  expression,  and  as- 
suming such  an  important  air,  drawing  out  of  his 
manuscript  some  meaning  which  we  have  already 
nearly  guessed;  and  when  I  see  how  he  is  bound 
up  in  his  parchments,  his  eyes  seeing  nothing  but 
dead  letters,  having  scarcely  a  look  to  spare  for  the 
human  beings  around  him — then  I  always  feel 
strongly  tempted  to  laugh.  When  I  ani  in  doubt 
whether  pity  would  be  the  proper  feeling,  I  take 
to  laughing.  And  he  certainly  does  not  require 
my  pity,  as  he  knows  so  much  more  than  I  do." 

"A  teacher  must  be  serious,"  said  the  Duchess. 
"Seriousness  belongs  to  him,  as  the  snow  does  to 
our  Alps." 

"Serious — ah  well!  in  this  land  where  the  snow 
covers  the  mountain-peaks,  everything  must  be 
serious,"  resumed  the  Greek  maid.  "If  I  were  only 
as  learned  as  Master  Ekkehard  to  be  able  to  ex- 
press all  that  I  want  to  say!  I  mean  that  one  can 
learn  many  things  jestingly,  without  the  sweat- 
drops  of  hard  labor  on  one's  brow.  All  that  is 
beautiful  ought  to  please,  and  be  true,  at  the  same 
time.    I  mean  that  knowledge  is  like  honey,  which 

-    195       •  :  ;: 


Ekkehard 

can  be  got  at  in  different  ways.  The  butterfly  hov- 
ers over  the  flowers  and  finds  it;  but  such  a  learned 
German  appears  to  me  like  a  bear,  which  clumsily 
puts  his  paws  into  a  bee-hive  and  then  licks  them. 
I  for  my  part  don't  admire  bears." 

"Thou  art  a  frivolous-minded  maiden  and  not 
fond  of  learning.  But  how  does  Ekkehard  please 
thee  otherwise?     I  think  him  very  handsome." 

Praxedis  looked  up  at  her  mistress.  "I  have 
never  yet  looked  at  a  monk  to  see  whether  he  were 
handsome." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  thought  it  quite  unnecessary." 

"Thou  givest  queer  answers  to-day,"  said  Dame 
Hadwig,  getting  up  from  her  seat.  She  stepped  to 
the  window  and  looked  out  northward,  where  from 
the  dark  fir  trees  rose  the  heavy  mass  of  the  steep, 
rocky  Hohenkrahen. 

"The  goat-boy  has  just  been  here,  and  has  told 
some  of  the  men  to  go  over,"  said  Praxedis. 

"The  afternoon  is  mild  and  sunny,"  observed  the 
Duchess.  "Tell  them  to  saddle  the  horses  and 
we  will  ride  over,  and  see  what  they  are  doing. 
Ah !  I  forgot  that  thou  complainedst  of  the  fatigue 
of  riding,  when  we  returned  from  St.  Gallus.  So 
I  will  go  there  alone.  ..." 

Ekkehard  meanwhile  had  inspected  the  scene  of 
the  nightly  revel,  of  which  but  few  traces  re- 
mained.   The  earth  around  the  oak-tree  was  still 

196 


Ekkehard 

wet  and  reddish  looking,  and  a  few  coals  and  ashes 
indicated  where  the  fire  had  been. 

With  astonishment  he  beheld  here  and  there, 
hanging  in  the  branches  of  the  oak,  small  wax 
effigies  of  human  limbs.  There  were  feet  and 
hands,  as  well  as  images  of  cows  and  horses — offer- 
ings for  the  recovery  of  sick  men  and  beasts,  which 
the  superstitious  peasantry  preferred  hanging  up 
on  old  consecrated  trees  to  placing  them  on  the 
altars  of  churches. 

Two  men,  with  axes,  now  came  up. 

"We  have  been  ordered  to  come  here,"  they 
said. 

"From  the  Hohentwiel?"  asked  Ekkehard. 

"We  belong  to  the  Duchess,  but  we  live  yonder 
on  the  Hohenhowen,  where  you  can  see  the  smoke 
rise  from  the  charcoal-pile." 

"Good,"  said  Ekkehard.  "You  are  to  cut  down 
this  oak  for  me." 

The  men  looked  at  him.  Embarrassment  was 
visible  in  their  faces. 

"Begin  at  once,  and  make  haste,  for  before 
nightfall  the  tree  must  be  felled  to  the  ground." 

Then  the  two  men  walked  up  to  the  oak.  With 
gaping  mouths  they  stood  before  the  magnificent 
tree.    One  of  them  let  his  ax  fall. 

"Don't  you  know  the  spot,  Chomuli?"  quoth  he 
to  his  companion. 

"How  should  I  know  it,  Woveli?" 

197 


Ekkehard 

The  former  pointed  toward  the  east,  and,  lifting 
one  of  his  hands  to  his  mouth,  imitated  the  act  of 
drinking.     "On  account  of  that,  Chomuli." 

Then  the  other  looked  downhill  where  Ekke- 
hard was'  standing,  and,  winking  cunningly  with 
one  eye,  said:  "We  know  nothing,  Woveli." 

"But  he  will  know,  Chomuli." 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  was  the  reply. 

"It  is  really  a  sin  and  a  shame,"  continued  the 
other.  "That  oak  is  at  least  two  hundred  years  old, 
and  has  lived  to  witness  many  a  bright  May-day 
and  autumn-fire.    I  really  can't  do  it." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  said  his  companion,  making 
the  first  stroke.  "The  more  readily  we  hew  away 
at  the  tree  the  less  yonder  monk  will  believe  that 
we  have  sat  under  its  branches  in  nightly  worship. 
Remember  the  shilling  fine  I  A  man  must  be  cau- 
tious, Woveli!" 

This  last  remark  did  not  fail  to  have  its  effect. 
"Yes,  a  man  must  be  cautious,"  he  repeated,  aim- 
ing a  blow  at  the  tree  of  his  devotion.  But  ten  days 
ago  he  had  hung  up  a  wax  effigy  himself,  in  order 
to  cure  his  brown  cow  of  fever. 

The  chips  flew  about,  and,  keeping  regular  time, 
their  blows  quickly  followed  each  other. 

The  deacon  of  Singen  had  also  arrived  with 
stole  and  mass-book.  Ekkehard  beckoned  to  him 
to  go  with  him  into  the  hut  of  the  woman  of  the 
wood.     She  was  still  sitting  motionless  as  before, 

198 


Ekkehard 

beside  her  hearth.  A  sharp  gust  of  wind,  entering 
as  the  door  opened,  extinguished  her  fire. 

"Woman  of  the  wood,"  called  out  Ekkehard  im- 
periously, "put  your  house  in  order  and  pack  up 
your  things,  for  you  must  go!" 

The  old  woman  seized  her  staff  and  cut  a  third 
notch.  "Who  is  it  that  is  insulting  me  for  the 
third  time,"  growled  she,  "and  who  wishes  to  cast 
me  out  of  my  mother's  house,  like  a  stray  dog?" 

"In  the  name  of  the  Duchess  of  Suabia,"  con- 
tinued Ekkehard  solemnly,  "and  on  account  of 
your  practising  heathenish  superstitions,  and 
nightly  idolatries,  I  banish  you  herewith  from 
house  and  home;  and  bid  you  leave  the  land. 
Your  chair  shall  be  placed  before  the  door  of  your 
hut,  and  you  shall  wander  unceasingly,  as  far  as  the 
sky  is  blue  and  Christians  visit  the  church;  as  far 
as  the  falcon  flies  on  a  day  of  spring  when  the 
wind  is  carrying  him  along,  faster  than  his  wings. 
No  hospitable  door  shall  be  opened  to  you;  no  fire 
be  lighted  to  give  you  warmth ;  and  may  the  wells 
deny  you  water,  until  you  have  renounced  the 
powers  of  darkness,  and  made  your  peace  with  the 
almighty  God,  the  judge  of  the  living  and  dead." 

The  woman  of  the  wood  had  listened  to  him, 
without  showing  great  emotion. 

"An  anointed  man  will  insult  thee  three  times 
under  thine  own  roof,"  muttered  she,  "and  thou 
shalt  make  a  sign  on  thy  staff,  in  witness  of  this ;  and 

199 


Ekkehard 

with  that  same  staff  thou  shalt  go  out  toward  the 
setting  sun,  for  they  will  not  give  thee  sufficient 
ground  to  rest  thy  head  upon.  Oh  mother!  My 
mother!" 

She  then  scraped  her  scanty  belongings  together, 
making  a  bundle  of  them,  and,  taking  her  staff, 
prepared  herself  to  go.  The  heart  of  the  deacon 
of  Singen  was  touched.  "Pray  God  through  his 
servants  to  have  mercy  on  you,  and  perform  some 
Christian  penance,"  he  said,  "so  that  you  may  find 
forgiveness." 

"For  that,  the  woman  of  the  wood  is  too  old," 
she  replied.  Then  she  called  her  woodpecker, 
which  flew  about  her  head;  the  raven  followed, 
with  a  scared,  frightened  look,  and  she  had  already 
opened  the  door  and  cast  back  one  last  look  on  the 
walls  and  fireplace,  the  herbs  and  horses'  skulls, 
when  she  struck  her  stick  violently  on  the  threshold, 
so  as  to  make  the  stone  flags  resound.  "Be  cursed, 
ye  dogs!"  cried  she;  then,  followed  by  her  birds, 
she  took  the  path  leading  into  the  woods,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

"And  silent  we  go,  a  defeated  tribe, 
Whose  stars  are  all  dying  and  sinking, 
Oh  Iceland,  thou  icy  rock  in  the  sea, 
With  thee  our  fates  we'll  be  linking !" 

was  her  low  chant,  slowly  dying  away  among  the 
leafless  trees. 


Ekkehard 

Ekkehard  now  put  on  the  stole ;  and  the  deacon 
of  Singen  carrying  the  mass-book  before  him,  they 
proceeded  through  chamber  and  closet.  The  walls 
were  sanctified  by  the  sign  of  the  cross,  so  as  to 
banish  the  evil  spirits  forever;  and  finally,  with 
prayers,  he  pronounced  a  mighty  exorcism  over 
the  place. 

The  pious  work  had  lasted  long ;  and  when  the 
deacon  took  off  Ekkehard's  stole,  the  cold  sweat- 
drops  stood  on  his  brow,  as  he  had  never  before 
heard  such  impressive  words.  Just  when  all  was 
over,  the  tramping  of  horses'  feet  was  heard. 

It  was  the  Duchess,  accompanied  by  one  servant 
only.  Ekkehard  went  out  to  meet  her;  and  the 
deacon  directed  his  steps  homeward. 

"You  were  so  long  away  that  I  had  to  come 
hither  myself  to  see  how  you  had  settled  every- 
thing," graciously  called  out  the  Duchess. 

The  two  wood-cutters  had  in  the  meanwhile 
finished  their  job,  and  made  their  retreat  by  the 
back  of  the  hill.  They  stood  in  awe  of  the  Duch- 
ess. Ekkehard  then  told  her  about  the  life  and 
doings  of  the  woman  of  the  wood,  and  how  he  had 
driven  her  away. 

"You  are  very  severe,"  said  Dame  Hadwig. 

"I  thought  I  was  very  mild,"  replied  Ekkehard. 

"Well,  we  approve  of  that  which  you  have  done. 
What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  the  deserted  hut?" 
casting  a  hasty  look  at  the  stone  walls. 

20I 


Ekkehard 

"The  power  of  the  evil  spirits  has  been  banished 
and  exorcised,"  said  Ekkehard.  "I  mean  to  con- 
secrate it  as  a  chapel  to  St.  Hadwig." 

The  Duchess  looked  at  him  with  a  well-pleased 
expression. 

"How  did  you  hit  upon  that  idea?" 

"The  thought  struck  me  just  now  while  I  was 
having  the  oak  cut  down." 

"We  will  examine  that  spot;  and  I  think  that 
we  shall  approve  also  of  the  felling  of  the  oak." 

She  climbed  the  steep  path  leading  up  to  the  top 
of  the  Hohenkrahen,  accompanied  by  Ekkehard. 

There  lay  the  oak  on  the  ground,  its  mighty 
branches  almost  preventing  their  further  ascent. 
A  flat  stone,  but  a  few  paces  in  circumference, 
crowned  the  top  of  the  strangely  shaped  hill. 
They  were  standing  on  the  rocks,  which  formed  a 
declivitous  wall  beneath  their  feet.  It  was  a  giddy 
height,  on  which  was  neither  stone  nor  tree  for 
support,  and  the  two  figures  stood  out  pictur- 
esquely against  the  blue  sky:  the  monk  in  his  dark 
garment  and  the  Duchess  wrapped  in  her  bright- 
colored  mantle.  Silently  they  stood  thus,  looking 
at  the  splendid  view  before  them.  Below,  the 
plain  lay  stretched  out  before  them,  through  the 
green  meadows  of  which  the  river  Aach  ran  in 
serpentine  lines.  The  roofs  and  gables  of  the 
houses  in  the  valley  looked  like  tiny  dots  on  a  map. 
Opposite  rose  darkly  the  proud,  familiar  Hohen- 

202 


Ekkehard 

twiel,  blue,  flat  mountain- ridges  rising  like  walls 
behind  the  mighty  peak,  hiding  the  Rhine  after  its 
escape  from  the  Bodensee. 

The  Untersee  with  the  island  of  Reichenau  lay 
bathed  in  light;  and  in  the  far-off  distance  the  faint 
outlines  of  gigantic  mountains  were  visible  through 
transparent  clouds.  They  became  clearer  and 
clearer  as  the  sun  sank  down,  a  golden  glow  sur- 
rounding them  like  a  halo  of  glory — the  land- 
scape becoming  softer,  shadows  and  glittering 
lights  melting  into  each  other. 

Dame  Hadwig  was  touched,  for  her  noble  heart 
could  feel  and  appreciate  nature's  beauty  and 
grandeur.  But  our  feelings  lie  very  close  to  each 
other,  and  at  that  moment  a  certain  tenderness  per- 
vaded her  whole  being.  Her  looks  wandered 
from  the  snowy  Alpine  peaks  to  Ekkehard.  "He 
is  going  to  consecrate  a  chapel  to  St.  Hadwig," 
something  whispered  within  her,  over  and  over 
again. 

She  advanced  a  step,  as  if  she  were  afraid  of  be- 
coming giddy,  and,  putting  her  right  arm  on  Ekke- 
hard's  shoulder,  leaned  heavily  on  him,  her  spar- 
kling eyes  looking  intently  into  his.  "What  is  my 
friend  thinking  about?"  said  she  in  soft  accents. 

Ekkehard,  who  had  been  lost  in  thought,  started. 

"I  have  never  before  stood  on  such  a  height," 
said  he,  "and  I  was  reminded  of  the  passage  in 
Scripture:  *And  the  devil,  taking  him  up  into 

203 


Ekkehard 

an  high  mountain,  showed  unto  him  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  world  in  a  moment  of  time.  And  the 
devil  said  unto  him,  All  this  will  I  give  thee,  and 
the  glory  of  them  ...  if  thou  wilt  worship  me. 
And  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him.  Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan:  for  it  is  written,  Thou  shalt 
worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him  only  shalt 
thou  serve.'  " 

With  a  strange  look  the  Duchess  stepped  back- 
ward; the  light  in  her  eyes  changing,  as  if  she 
would  have  liked  to  push  the  monk  down  into  the 
abyss. 

**EkkehardI"  cried  she,  "you  are  either  a  child 
— or  a  fool  I" 

Then  she  turned  round,  and  hastily  and  dis- 
pleased descended  the  path.  Mounting  her  horse, 
she  rode  back  to  the  Hohentwiel  at  a  gallop  so 
furious  that  her  servant  could  scarcely  follow  her. 

Ekkehard,  full  of  consternation,  remained  where 
he  was.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  as  if  to 
remove  a  mist  from  before  them. 

When  late  at  night  he  sat  in  his  tower  on  the 
Hohentwiel,  thinking  of  all  that  had  happened  that 
day,  he  beheld  a  distant  gleam  of  fire.  He  looked 
out  and  saw  that  the  fiery  blaze  arose  from  the  fir 
trees  on  the  Hohenkrahen.  The  woman  of  the 
wood  had  been  paying  her  last  visit  to  the  future 
chapel  of  St.  Hadwig. 


204 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER  X 

CHRISTMAS 

The  evening  on  the  Hohenkrahen  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  following  days.  Misunderstandings  are 
not  easily  forgiven,  least  of  all  by  him  who  has 
caused  them. 

For  this  reason  Dame  Hadwig  spent  some  days 
in  a  very  bad  humor  in  her  own  private  apartments. 
Grammar  and  Virgil  both  had  a  holiday.  With 
Praxedis,  she  took  up  the  old  jest  about  the  school- 
masters at  Constantinople,  seeming  now  to  enjoy 
it  much  better.  Ekkehard  came  to  ask  whether 
he  were  to  continue  his  lessons.  "I  have  got  a 
toothache,"  said  the  Duchess.  Expressing  his 
regret,  he  attributed  it  to  the  rough  autumnal 
weather. 

Every  day  he  asked  several  times  how  she  was, 
which  somewhat  conciliated  the  Duchess. 

"How  is  it,"  said  she  to  Praxedis,  "that  a  person 
can  be  of  so  much  more  real  worth  than  he  out- 
wardly appears  to  possess?" 

"That  comes  from  a  want  of  gracefulness,"  re- 
plied the  Greek  maid.  "In  other  countries  I  often 
found  the  reverse ;  but  here,  people  are  too  lazy  to 
manifest  their  individuality  by  every  movement  or 

205 


Ekkehard 

word.  Tfiey  prefer  thinking  to  acting,  believing 
that  the  whole  world  must  be  able  to  read  on  their 
foreheads  what  is  passing  within." 

"But  we  are  generally  so  industrious,"  said  Dame 
Hadwig,  complacently. 

"The  buffaloes  likewise  work  the  livelong  day," 
Praxedis  had  almost  said ;  but  she  finally  contented 
herself  with  merely  thinking  it. 

Ekkehard  all  this  time  felt  quite  at  his  ease; 
for  the  idea  that  he  had  given  an  uncivil  answer 
to  the  Duchess  never  struck  him.  He  had  really 
been  thinking  of  that  parable  in  Scripture  and 
failed  to  see  that  in  reply  to  the  timid  expression  of 
a  friendly  liking  it  might  not  always  be  quite  the 
right  thing  to  quote  Scripture.  He  reverenced  the 
Duchess;  but  far  more  as  the  embodied  idea  of 
sublimity  than  as  a  woman.  That  sublime  beings 
demand  adoration  had  never  struck  him,  and  still 
less  that  even  the  sublimest  personage  is  often  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  simple  affection.  That  Dame 
Hadwig  was  out  of  spirits,  he  noticed,  however, 
but  he  contented  himself  by  making  the  general 
observation  that  intercourse  with  a  Duchess  was 
rather  more  complicated  than  with  the  brother- 
hood at  St.  Gall. 

Among  the  books  which  Vincentius  had  left 
behind  were  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  which  he  now 
studied.  Master  Spazzo  during  those  days  put  on 
a  still  haughtier  mien  than  usual  when  he  passed 

206 


Ekkehard 

him.  Dame  Hadwig  soon  found  out  that  it  were 
better  to  return  to  the  old  order  of  things. 

"It  was  really  a  grand  sight  which  we  had  that 
evening  from  the  Hohenkrahen,"  said  she  one  day 
to  Ekkehard.  "But  do  you  know  our  weather- 
signs  on  the  Hohentwiel  ?  Whenever  the  Alps  ap- 
pear very  distinct  and  near,  the  weather  is  sure  to 
change.  So  we  have  had  some  bad  weather  since. 
And  now  we  will  resume  our  reading  of  Virgil." 

Upon  this,  Ekkehard,  highly  pleased,  went  to 
fetch  his  heavy  metal-bound  book;  and  so  their 
studies  were  resumed.  He  read  and  translated  to 
his  pupils  the  second  book  of  the  JEntid,  about  the 
downfall  of  Troy,  the  wooden  horse,  and  the  fear- 
ful end  of  Laocoon ;  further,  of  the  nightly  battle, 
Cassandra's  fate,  and  Priamus's  death;  and  finally 
of  iEneas'  flight  with  the  aged  Anchises. 

With  evident  sympathy  Dame  Hadwig  listened  to 
the  interesting  tale.  Only,  with  the  disappearance 
of  Eneas'  spouse  Kreiisa  she  was  not  quite  satisfied. 

"That  he  need  not  have  told  so  lengthily  to 
Queen  Dido,"  she  said ;  "for  I  much  doubt  whether 
the  living  woman  was  overpleased  that  he  had  run 
after  the  lost  one  so  long.    Lost  is  lost." 

And  now  the  winter  was  drawing  near.  The 
sky  became  dreary  and  leaden,  and  the  distance 
shrouded  with  mists.  First  the  mountain-peaks 
round  about  put  on  their  snow-caps,  and  then  val- 
ley and  fields   followed   their  example.     Small 

207 


Ekkehard 

icicles  fastened  on  the  rafters  under  the  roofs,  with 
the  intention  of  quietly  remaining  there  for  some 
months;  and  the  old  linden  tree  in  the  courtyard 
had  for  some  time,  like  a  careful  and  economical 
man  who  disposes  of  his  worn-out  garments  to  the 
•Hebrews,  shaken  down  its  faded  leaves  to  the 
winds.  They  made  up  a  good  heap,  which  was 
soon  scattered  in  all  directions  by  the  merry,  gam- 
boling breezes.  The  bare  branches  of  the  tree 
were  often  crowded  with  cawing  rooks,  coming 
from  the  neighboring  woods,  and  eagerly  watch- 
ing for  a  bone  or  crumb  from  the  kitchen  of  the 
castle.  Once,  there  was  a  raven  among  the  sable 
brotherhood  whose  flight  was  heavy,  as  its  wings 
were  damaged;  and  on  beholding  Ekkehard,  who 
chanced  to  go  over  the  courtyard,  this  raven  flew 
screeching  away.  It  had  seen  the  monk's  habit 
before,  and  had  no  reason  to  like  it. 

The  nights  of  winter  are  long  and  dark.  Now 
and  then  appear  the  northern  lights;  but  far 
brighter  than  these,  in  the  hearts  of  men,  is  the 
remembrance  of  that  night  when  angels  descended 
to  the  shepherds  in  the  fields,  greeting  them  with: 

"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth 
peace,  good  w^ill  toward  men." 

On  the  Hohentwiel  they  were  preparing  for 
Christmas  by  getting  ready  all  sorts  of  presents. 
The  year  is  long,  and  numbers  many  a  day  in 
which  people  can  show  each  other  little  kindnesses ; 

208 


Ekkehard 

but  the  Germans  like  having  one  especial  day  set 
aside  for  that  in  particular.  Therefore,  before  all 
other  nations  they  keep  up  the  custom  of  making 
Christmas  presents.  The  feeling  heart  has  its  own 
peculiar  rites. 

During  that  time  Dame  Hadwig  had  almost  put 
aside  grammar  entirely,  taking  to  sewing  and  em- 
broidery. Balls  of  gold  thread  and  black  silk  lay 
about  the  women's  apartments;  and  when  Ekke- 
hard once  came  in  unawares,  Praxedis  rushed  up, 
and  pushed  him  out  of  the  door  while  Dame  Had- 
wig had  some  needlework  in  a  basket. 

This  aroused  Ekkehard's  curiosity,  and  he  ar- 
rived at  the  not  unreasonable  conclusion  that  some 
present  was  being  made  for  him.  Therefore  he 
thought  about  returning  the  kindness,  intending  to 
exert  his  utmost  powers  and  abilities  for  that  pur- 
pose. So  he  sent  word  to  his  friend  and  teacher, 
Folkard,  at  St.  Gall,  to  send  him  parchment, 
colors,  and  brushes,  as  well  as  some  precious  ink, 
which  request  was  speedily  fulfilled.  Then  Ekke- 
hard sat  up  many  an  hour  at  night  in  his  tower, 
pondering  over  a  Latin  composition  which  he 
wanted  to  dedicate  to  the  Duchess,  and  which  was 
to  contain  some  delicate  homage. 

But  all  this  was  not  so  easy  as  he  had  thought. 
Once  he  began  with  the  creation  of  the  world,  in- 
tending to  proceed  in  daring  flight  to  the  begin- 
ning of  Dame  Hadwig's  reign  in  Suabia;  but  he 

209 


Ekkehard 

had  already  written  some  hundred  hexametres  and 
had  only  got  as  far  as  King  David ;  and  the  work 
would  probably  have  taken  him  three  years  to  com- 
plete. Another  time  he  tried  to  number  up  all  the 
women  w  ho  either  by  their  strength  or  their  beauty 
had  influenced  the  fate  of  nations:  such  as  Queen 
Semiramis  and  the  virgin  Amazons,  the  heroic  Ju- 
dith and  the  tuneful  Sappho;  but  to  his  great  re- 
gret found  out  that  by  the  time  his  pen  had  worked 
its  w^ay  to  the  Duchess  it  would  have  been  quite  im- 
possible to  find  anything  new  to  say  in  her  praise. 
So  he  went  about  downcast  and  distressed. 

"Have  you  swallowed  a  spider,  pearl  of  all  pro- 
fessors?" inquired  Praxedis  one  day,  on  meeting 
him  in  the  aforesaid  mental  condition. 

"You  may  w^ell  be  jesting,"  said  Ekkehard  sadly; 
and  under  the  seal  of  secrecy  he  confided  his  griefs 
to  her. 

"By  the  thirty-six  thousand  volumes  in  the  li- 
brary at  Constantinopolis!"  exclaimed  she,  "why, 
you  are  going  to  cut  down  a  whole  forest  of  trees, 
when  a  few  flowers  are  all  that's  wanted.  Why 
don't  you  make  it  simple  and  graceful,  such  as  your 
beloved  Virgil  would  have  made  it?"  After  this 
she  ran  away,  and  Ekkehard  crept  back  to  his 
chamber.  "Like  Virgil?"  he  mused.  But  in  the 
whole  of  the  ^neid  there  was  no  example  of  a  sim- 
ilar case.  He  read  some  cantos,  and  dreamily  sat 
thinking  over  them,  when  a  good  idea  suddenly 

2IO 


Ekkehard 

struck  him.  "I've  got  it!"  cried  he.  "The  beloved 
poet  himself  is  to  do  homage  to  her!"  He  then 
wrote  a  poem,  as  if  Virgil  had  appeared  to  him,  in 
his  solitude,  expressing  his  delight  that  his  poetry 
was  living  again  in  German  lands,  and  thanking 
the  high-born  lady  for  thus  befriending  him. 

This  poem  Ekkehard  now  wished  to  write  down 
on  parchment,  adorned  by  some  handsome  illustra- 
tion. So  he  composed  the  following  picture :  The 
Duchess,  with  crown  and  sceptre,  sitting  on  her 
throne,  accosted  by  Virgil  in  white  garments,  who, 
inclining  his  bay-crowned  head,  advances  toward 
her.  He  is^  leading  Ekkehard,  who,  modestly 
walking  by  his  side,  as  a  pupil  with  his  master,  is 
likewise  humbly  bowing  before  her. 

In  the  strict  manner  of  the  excellent  Folkard, 
he  first  drew  the  sketch.  He  remembered  a  pic- 
ture in  a  psalm-book,  representing  the  young 
David  before  King  Abimelech.  Thus  he  ar- 
ranged the  figures.  The  Duchess  he  drew  two 
fingers'-breadth  higher  than  Virgil;  and  the  Ekke- 
hard of  the  sketch  was  considerably  shorter  than 
the  heathen  poet.  Budding  art,  lacking  other 
means,  expressed  rank  and  greatness  outwardly. 

With  the  figure  of  Virgil  he  succeeded  tolerably 
well ;  for  they  had  always  used  ancient  pictures  as 
models  for  their  drawings  at  St.  Gall,  and  he  had  ac- 
quired a  stereotyped  way  of  executing  both  drapery 
and  outline.     Likewise  he  suceeded  with  his  own 

211 


Ekkehard 

portrait,  in  so  far  as  he  managed  to  draw  a  figure 
in  a  monk's  habit,  wearing  a  tonsure;  but  a  terri- 
ble problem  for  him  was  the  representation  of  a 
queenly  woman's  form,  for  as  yet  no  woman's  pic- 
ture, not  even  God's  holy  Mother,  had  received  ad- 
mittance among  the  monastery's  paintings.  David 
and  Abimelech,  whom  he  was  so  well  accustomed 
to,  were  of  no  help  to  him  here,  for  the  regal  man- 
tle scarcely  came  down  to  their  knees ;  and  he  knew 
not  how  to  draw  it  any  longer.  So  care  once  more 
resumed  its  seat  on  his  brow. 

"Well,  what  now?"  quoth  Praxedis  one  day. 

"The  poem  is  finished,"  replied  Ekkehard. 
"Now  something  else  is  wanting." 

"And  what  may  that  be?" 

"I  ought  to  know  in  what  way  women's  gar- 
ments cling  to  their  tender  limbs,"  said  he  in  dole- 
ful accents. 

"You  are  really  saying  quite  wicked  things,  you 
chosen  vessel  of  virtue,"  scolded  Praxedis.  But 
Ekkehard  then  made  his  difficulties  known  to  her 
in  a  clearer  way,  upon  which  the  Greek  made  a 
movement  with  her  hand,  as  if  to  open  his  eyes. 

"Open  your  eyes,"  she  said,  "and  look  at  the 
living  things  around  you." 

The  advice  was  simple  enough,  and  yet  entirely 
novel  to  one  who  had  acquired  all  his  skill  in  art 
in  his  solitary  cell.  Ekkehard  cast  a  long  and 
scrutinizing  look  at  his  counselor.    "It  avails  me 

212 


Ekkehard 

nothing,"  said  he,  "for  you  do  not  wear  a  regal 
mantle." 

Then  the  Greelc  took  pity  on  the  doubt-beset 
artist.  "Wait,"  said  she,  "the  Duchess  is  down- 
stairs in  the  garden,  so  I  can  put  on  her  ducal  man- 
tle, and  you  will  be  helped."  She  glided  out,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  reappeared  with  the  purple 
mantle  hanging  negligently  from  her  shoulders. 
IWith  slow,  measured  steps  she  walked  through  the 
chamber.  On  a  table  stood  a  metal  candlestick, 
which  she  seized,  and  held  up  like  a  sceptre ;  and 
thus,  with  head  thrown  back,  she  stood  before  the 
monk. 

He  had  taken  out  his  pencil  and  parchment. 
"Turn  round  a  little  more  toward  the  light,"  said 
he,  beginning  at  once  to  draw  eagerly. 

Every  time,  however,  when  he  looked  at  his 
graceful  model,  she  darted  a  sparkling  look  at 
him.  His  movements  became  slower,  and  Praxe- 
dis  looked  toward  the  window.  "But  as  our  rival 
in  the  realm,"  began  she  with  an  artificially  raised 
voice,  "is  already  leaving  the  courtyard,  threaten- 
ing to  take  us  by  surprise,  we  command  you  on 
pain  of  losing  your  head  to  finish  your  drawing 
within  the  next  minute." 

"I  thank  you,"  said  Ekkehard,  putting  down  his 
pencil. 

Praxedis  stepped  up  to  him,  and,  bending  for- 
ward, looked  at  what  he  had  done.    "What  shame- 

213 


Ekkehard 

f ol  treason !"  exclaimed  she,  "why,  the  picture  has 
no  head!" 

"I  merely  wanted  the  drapery,"  said  Ekkehard. 

"Well,  you  have  forfeited  a  great  piece  of  good 
fortune,"  continued  Praxedis  in  her  former  tone. 
"If  you  had  faithfully  portrayed  the  features,  who 
knows  whether  we  should  not  have  made  you  Pa- 
triarch of  Constantinopolis,  as  a  sign  of  our 
princely  favor?" 

Steps  were  now  heard  outside.  Praxedis  quickly 
tore  off  the  mantle  from  her  shoulders,  so  that  it 
dropped  on  her  arm,  just  as  the  Duchess  was  stand- 
ing before  them. 

"Are  you  again  learning  Greek?"  said  she  re- 
proachfully to  Ekkehard. 

"I  have  shown  him  the  precious  sardonyx  in  the 
clasp  of  my  mistress's  mantle ;  it  is  such  a  beauti- 
fully cut  head,"  said  Praxedis.  "Master  Ekke- 
hard has  much  taste  for  antiquities,  and  he  was 
greatly  pleased  with  the  stone." 

Even  Audifax  made  his  preparations  for  Christ- 
mas. His  hope  of  finding  treasures  being  greatly 
diminished,  he  now  confined  himself  to  the  actual 
things  around  him.  Often  he  descended  at  night- 
time to  the  shores  of  the  river  Aach,  which  slowly 
flowed  on  toward  the  lake.  Close  to  the  rotten  lit- 
tle bridge  stood  a  hollow  willow-tree,  before  which 
Audifax  lay  in  ambush  many  an  hour,  his  raised 
stick  directed  toward  the  opening  in  the  tree.    He 

214 


Ekkehard 

was  on  the  lookout  for  an  otter.  But  no  philos- 
opher trying  to  fathom  the  last  cause  of  Being  ever 
found  his  task  such  a  difficult  one  as  Audif  ax  did  his 
otter-hunting;  for  from  the  hollow  tree  there  was 
still  many  a  subterranean  outlet  to  the  river  which 
the  otter  knew  and  Audifax  did  not.  And  often 
when  Audifax,  trembling  with  cold,  said,  "Now  it 
must  come,"  he  would  hear  a  noise  far  up  in  the 
river,  caused  by  his  friend  the  otter  putting  its 
snout  out  of  the  water  to  take  a  good  breath  of  air; 
and  when  Audifax  softly  crept  up  to  the  place 
from  whence  the  sound  had  come,  the  otter  was 
lying  on  its  back,  and  floating  comfortably  down 
the  river. 

In  the  kitchen  on  the  Hohentwiel  there  was 
great  bustle  and  activity — such  as  there  is  in  the 
tent  of  a  commander-in-chief  on  the  eve  of  a  battle. 
Dame  Hadwig  herself  stood  among  the  serving 
maidens.  She  did  not  wear  her  ducal  mantle,  but 
a  white  apron,  and  stood  distributing  flour  and 
honey  for  the  gingerbread.  Praxedis  was  mixing 
ginger,  pepper,  and  cinnamon  to  flavor  the  paste 
with. 

"What  shape  shall  we  take?"  asked  she.  "The 
square  with  the  serpents?" 

"No,  the  big  heart  is  prettier,"  said  Dame  Had- 
wig. So  the  gingerbread  was  made  in  the  shape 
of  hearts,  and  the  finest  was  stuck  with  almonds 
and  cardamom  by  the  Duchess's  own  hand. 

215 


Ekkehard 

One  morning  Audifax  entered  the  kitchen,  half 
frozen  with  cold,  and  crept  up  to  the  fireplace. 
His  lips  trembled  as  in  a  fever;  but  he  seemed  to 
be  merry,  and  in  high  spirits.  "Get  ready,  my 
boy,"  said  Praxedis,  "for  this  afternoon  thou  must 
go  to  the  forest  and  hew  down  a  fir  tree." 

"That  is  none  of  my  business,"  proudly  said 
Audifax ;  "but  I  will  do  it,  if  you  will  also  do  me 
a  favor." 

"And  what  does  Master  Goatherd  desire?"  asked 
Praxedis. 

Audifax  ran  out,  and  on  returning,  trium- 
phantly held  up  a  dark-brown  otter's  skin,  glossy 
and  soft  to  the  touch. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  from?"  asked  Praxedis. 

"I  caught  it  myself,"  replied  Audifax,  looking 
with  sparkling  eyes  at  his  booty.  "You  are  to 
make  a  fur  cap  out  of  it  for  Hadumoth." 

The  Greek  maid,  who  liked  the  boy  well,  prom- 
ised to  fulfil  his  request. 

The  Christmas  tree  was  brought  home,  and 
adorned  with  apples  and  wax-lights.  The  Duchess 
arranged  everything  in  the  great  hall.  A  man 
from  Stein  on  the  Rhine  had  arrived  and  brought 
a  basket,  tightly  sewed  up  in  linen.  He  said  that 
it  was  from  St.  Gall,  and  destined  for  Master 
Ekkehard.  Dame  Hadwig  had  the  basket  put 
unopened  on  the  table  with  the  other  gifts. 

Christmas  eve  had  arrived.    All  the  inhabitants 

216  i 


Ekkehard 

of  the  castle  were  assembled,  dressed  in  their  best; 
for  on  that  day  there  was  to  be  no  distinction  be- 
tween masters  and  servants.  Ekkehard  read  them 
the  story  of  Christ's  nativity;  and  then  they  all 
went,  two  and  two,  into  the  great  hall.  There  the 
Christmas  tree,  with  its  many  candles,  lighted  up 
the  room  splendidly.  The  last  to  enter  were  Audi- 
fax  and  Hadumoth.  A  little  bit  of  tinsel,  with 
which  the  nuts  had  been  gilt,  lay  on  the  threshold. 
Audifax  took  it  up.  "That  has  fallen  off  from  the 
wings  of  the  Christ-child,"  whispered  Hadumoth. 

On  large  tables  were  laid  out  the  presents  for  the 
serving  people:  a  piece  of  linen,  or  cloth,  and 
some  cakes.  They  rejoiced  at  the  generosity  of 
their  mistress,  which  was  not  always  so  manifest. 
And,  truly,  beside  the  share  allotted  to  Hadumoth, 
lay  the  fur  cap.  She  cried  when  Praxedis  betrayed 
the  giver  to  her.  "I  have  nothing  for  thee,  Audi- 
fax,"  said  she. 

"It  is  instead  of  the  golden  crown,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

Men  and  maid-servants  then  offered  their 
thanks  to  the  Duchess,  and  went  down  again  to  the 
servants'  hall.  Dame  Hadwig,  taking  Ekkehard 
by  the  hand,  led  him  to  a  little  table  apart.  "This 
is  meant  for  you,"  said  she. 

Between  the  almond-covered,  gingerbread  heart 
and  the  basket  there  lay  a  handsome  velvet  priest's 
cap  and  a  magnificent  stole.    Fringe  and  ground- 

217 

Vol.  3  (A)— 10 


Ekkehard  [ 

work  were  of  gold  thread ;  the  embroideries  were 
of  black  .silk,  interwoven  with  pearls — grand 
enough  for  a  bishop. 

"Let  me  see  how  it  becomes  you,"  said  Praxedis, 
and  in  spite  of  their  ecclesiastical  character  she  put 
the  cap  on  his  head,  and  threw  the  stole  over  his 
shoulders.  Ekkehard  cast  down  his  eyes.  "Splen- 
did!" exclaimed  she.  "You  may  offer  your 
thanks!"  i 

Shyly  Ekkehard  put  down  the  consecrated  gifts, 
and  then,  drawing  the  parchment  roll  from  out  his 
ample  garment,  he  timidly  presented  it  to  the 
Duchess.  Dame  Hadwig  held  it  unopened  in  her 
hand.  "First  we  must  open  the  basket,"  she  said. 
"The  best" — smilingly  pointing  to  the  parchment 
— "must  come  last." 

So  they  cut  open  the  basket.  Buried  in  hay,  and 
well  preserved  by  winter's  cold,  there  lay  a  huge 
mountain-cock.  Ekkehard  lifted  it  up.  With  out- 
spread wings,  it  measured  above  six  feet.  A  letter 
accompanied  this  magnificent  piece  of  feathered 
game. 

"Read  it  aloud!"  said  the  Duchess,  whose  curi- 
osity was  aroused.  Ekkehard,  breaking  the  clumsy 
seal,  then  read  as  follows: 

"'To  the  venerable  Brother  Ekkehard,  on  the 
Hohentwiel,  through  Burkhard  the  cloister-pupil, 
from  Romeias  the  gatekeeper : 

"  'If  there  were  two  of  them,  one  would  be  for 

218 


Ekkehard 

you;  but  as  I  have  not  been  lucky  enough  to  get 
two,  this  one  is  not  for  you,  and  yours  will  come 
later.  It  is  sent  to  you,  on  account  of  not  knowing 
her  name;  but  she  was  with  the  Duchess  in  the 
monastery  on  that  day,  and  wore  a  dress  of  the 
color  of  the  green  woodpecker;  and  her  tresses 
were  fastened  round  her  head. 

"  Tor  her  the  bird  on  account  of  continual  think- 
ing, on  the  part  of  him  who  shot  it,  of  the  walk  to 
the  recluses.  It  must  be  well  macerated  and 
roasted,  because  otherwise  tough.  In  case  of  other 
guests,  she  is  herself  to  eat  the  white  flesh  on  the 
backbone,  because  that  is  the  best,  the  brown  often 
having  a  resinous  taste. 

"  'With  it,  I  wish  her  all  blessings  and  happiness. 
To  you  venerable  brother,  likewise.  If  on  your 
castle  were  wanting  a  watchman,  porter,  or  game- 
keeper, you  might  recommend  Romeias  to  the 
Duchess;  he,  on  account  of  being  mocked  at  by 
the  steward,  and  of  the  complaints  of  that  dragon, 
Wiborad,  would  gladly  change  service.  Practise 
in  the  office  of  gatekeeper,  both  giving  admittance 
and  pitching  out  of  strange  visitors,  can  be  testified 
to.  The  same  with  regard  to  hunting.  He  is  al- 
ready now  looking  toward  the  Hohentwiel,  as  if  a 
cord  were  drawing  him  thither. — Long  life  to  you 
and  to  the  Lady  Duchess.    Farewell!'  " 

A  merry  peal  of  laughter  followed  the  reading 
of  this  curious  epistle.    Praxedis  had  blushed  all 

219    .- 


Ekkehard 

over.  "That  is  a  bad  reward,"  angrily  exclaimed 
she,  "that  you  write  letters  in  other  people's  name, 
to  insult  me !" 

"Stop,"  said  Ekkehard,  "why  should  the  letter 
not  be  genuine?" 

"It  would  not  be  the  first  that  was  forged  by  a 
monk,"  was  Praxedis's  bitter  reply.  "Why  need 
you  laugh  at  that  rough  sportsman?  He  was  by 
no  means  so  bad!" 

"Praxedis,  be  reasonable!"  urged  the  Duchess. 
"Look  at  that  mountain-cock;  that  has  not  been 
shot  in  the  Hegau;  and  Ekkehard  writes  a  some- 
what different  hand.  Shall  we  give  the  petitioner 
a  place  on  the  Hohentwiel?"  ' 

"Pray  don't!"  cried  Praxedis  eagerly.  "No- 
body is  to  believe  that — " 

"Very  well,"  said  Dame  Hadwig,  in  a  tone  be- 
speaking silence.  She  then  opened  Ekkehard's 
parchment  roll.  The  painting  at  the  beginning 
had  succeeded  pretty  well;  and  any  doubt  of  its 
meaning  was  done  away  with  by  the  superscription 
of  the  names :  Hadwigis,  Virgilius,  and  Ekkehard. 
A  bold  initial,  with  intricate  golden  arabesques, 
headed  the  poem. 

The  Duchess  was  highly  pleased.  Ekkehard 
had  never  before  given  her  any  proof  of  his  skill 
in  art.  Praxedis  looked  with  an  arch  smile  at  the 
purple  mantle,  which  the  Duchess  wore  on  the  pic- 
ture, as  if  she  could  tell  something  more  about  it. 

220  i 


Ekkehard 

Dame  Hadwig  signed  to  Ekkehard  to  explain 
the  poem.    So  he  read  out  the  following  verses : 

"In  nightly  silence  sat  I  once  alone, 
Deciphering  some  parchments  old  and  deep; 
When  suddenly  a  bright,  unearthly  light 
Lit  up  my  room — 'twas  not  the  moon's  pale  ray — 
And  then  a  radiant  figure  did  I  see. 
Immortal  smiles  were  playing  round  his  mouth, 
And  in  his  rich  and  sable-colored  locks 
He  wore  a  crown  of  everlasting  bay. 

"And  with  his  finger  pointing  to  the  book, 
He  then  spoke  thus :  *Be  of  good  cheer,  my  friend, 
I  am  no  spirit,  come  to  rob  thy  peace; 
I  merely  came  to  wish  thee  all  that's  good. 
All  that  which  the  dead  letters  here  relate 
I  once  have  written  with  my  own  heart's  blood : 
The  siege  of  Troy,  and  then  vEneas'  flight, 
The  wrath  of  Gods,  and  splendid  Roma's  birth. 

Almost  a  thousand  years  have  since  gone  by. 

The  singer  died,  his  nation  died  with  him. 

My  grave  is  still,  but  seldom  do  I  hear 

The  distant  shouts  at  merry  vintage  tirne. 

Or  roar  of  breakers  from  the  Cape  Misene. 

Yet  lately  was  I  call'd  up  from  my  rest 

By  some  rough  gale,  which,  coming  from  the  North, 

Brought  me  the  tidings  that  in  distant  lands 

Eneas'  fate  was  being  read  again ; 

And  that  a  noble  princess,  proud  and  fair, 

221 


« f 


Ekkehard 


.m- 


{( t 


it  ( 


Had  kindly  deigned  to  dress  my  epic  song 
In  the  bold  accents  of  her  native  tongue. 

We  once  believed  the  land  beyond  the  Alps 
Was  peopled  by  a  rough,  uncultured  race; 
But  now  at  home  we  long  have  been  forgot, 
And  in  the  stranger  land  we  live  again. 
Therefore  I  come  to  offer  you  my  thanks ; 
The  greatest  boon  a  minstrel  can  obtain 
It  is  the  praise  from  noble  woman's  lip. 

Hail  to  thy  mistress,  who  in  union  rare 
Has  strength  and  wisdom  in  herself  enshrined, 
And,  like  Minerva  in  the  ranks  of  Gods, 
In  steel-clad  armor  sitteth  on  the  throne, 
Fair  patron  yet  of  all  the  peaceful  arts. 
Yet  many  years  may  she  the  sceptre  wield. 
Surrounded  by  a  strong  and  loving  race. 
And  when  you  listen  to  the  foreign  strains, 
Like  armor  rattling,  and  the  clash  of  steel — 
Then  think  of  me :  it  is  Italians  voice, 
'Tis  Virgil  greets  the  rock  of  Hohentwiel.' 

"Thus  spake  he,  waved  his  hand  and  disappear'd. 
But  I  wrote  down,  still  on  that  very  night. 
What  he  had  said ;  and  to  my  mistress  now  j 

I  shyly  venture  to  present  these  leaves,  i 

A  humble  gift  from  faithful  Ekkehard." 

A  short  pause  ensued,  after  he  had  finished  the 
reading   of   his   poem.     Then  the    Duchess   ap- 

222  , 


Ekkehard 

preached  him  with  outstretched  hand,  saying: 
"Ekkehard,  I  thank  you."  They  were  the  same 
words  which  she  had  once  said  to  him  in  the  clois- 
ter-courtyard at  St.  Gall;  but  the  tones  were  still 
milder  than  at  that  time ;  her  eyes  sparkled  and  her 
lips  wore  a  wondrous  smile,  like  that  of  sweet- 
eyed  fairies,  which  is  said  to  be  followed  by  a 
shower  of  delicious  roses. 

Then  turning  to  Praxedis  she  continued:  "And 
thee  I  ought  to  condemn  to  ask  his  pardon  on  thy 
very  knees,  for  having  but  lately  spoken  with  so 
little  veneration  of  learned  and  godly  men."  But 
the  Greek  maiden's  eyes  sparkled  archly,  well 
knowing  that  without  her  help  and  advice  the  shy 
monk  would  scarcely  have  been  able  to  attain  this 
success. 

"In  future  I  will  give  him  all  the  reverence 
that's  due,"  said  she.  "I  will  even  weave  him  a 
garland  if  you  desire  it." 

After  Ekkehard  had  gone  up  to  his  little  cham- 
ber the  two  women  still  sat  up  together,  and  the 
Greek  maid  fetched  a  basin  filled  with  water,  some 
pieces  of  lead,  and  a  metal  spoon.  "The  lead- 
melting  of  last  year  has  prophesied  well,"  said 
she.  "We  could  then  not  quite  understand  what 
the  strange  shape  was  which  the  lead  assumed  in 
the  water;  but  now  I  am  almost  sure  that  it  re- 
sembled a  monk's  cowl,  which  our  castle  really 
can  boast  of  at  present." 

223 


Ekkehard 

The  Duchess  had  become  thoughtful.  She  lis- 
tened to  hear  whether  Ekkehard  might  not  be 
returning.  i 

"It  is  nothing  but  an  idle  amusement,'*  said  she. 

"If  it  does  not  please  my  mistress,"  said  the 
Greek,  "then  she  might  order  our  teacher  to  enter- 
tain us  with  something  better.  His  Virgil  is  no 
doubt  a  far  better  oracle  than  our  lead  when 
opened  on  a  consecrated  night,  with  prayers  and 
a  blessing.  I  wonder  now,  what  part  of  his  epic 
would  foretell  to  us  the  events  of  the  coming 
year." 

"Be  silent,"  said  the  Duchess.  "He  spoke  but 
lately  so  severely  on  withcraft;  he  would  laugh 
at  us  if — " 

"Then  we  shall  have  to  content  ourselves  with 
the  old  way,"  returned  Praxedis,  holding  the 
spoon  with  the  lead  in  it  over  the  flame  of  the  lamp. 
The  lead  melted  and  trembled;  and  muttering  a 
few  unintelligible  words,  she  poured  it  into  the 
water,  the  liquid  metal  making  a  hissing  sound. 

Dame  Hadwig,  with  seeming  indifference,  cast 
a  look  at  it,  when  Praxedis  held  the  basin  up  to 
the  light.  Instead  of  dividing  into  fantastic  shapes, 
the  lead  had  formed  a  long-pointed  drop.  It  glim- 
mered faintly  in  Dame  Hadwig's  hand. 

"That  is  another  riddle  for  time  to  solve," 
laughed  Praxedis.  "The  future,  this  time,  closely 
resembles  a  pine-cone." 

224  ; 


Ekkehard 

"Or  a  tear,"  said  the  Duchess  seriously,  leaning 
her  head  on  her  right  hand. 

A  loud  noise  from  the  ground  floor  interrupted 
the  further  investigation  of  the  omen.  Giggling 
and  screams  of  the  maid-servants,  rough  sounds  of 
male  voices,  interspersed  with  the  shrill  tones  of  a 
lute,  were  heard  in  dire  confusion,  coming  up  the 
passage.  Respectfully  but  beseechingly,  the  flying 
troop  of  the  maids  stopped  at  the  threshold.  The 
tall  Friderun  could  scarcely  refrain  from  scold- 
ing; and  little  Hadumoth  was  crying  audibly.  A 
groping,  fumbling  step  was  heard  behind  them, 
and  presently  there  appeared  an  uncouth  figure, 
wrapped  in  a  bearskin,  with  a  painted  mask,  in  the 
form  of  a  bear's  snout,  snarling  and  growling  like 
hungry  bruin  seeking  for  his  prey.  Now  and  then 
this  apparition  drew  some  inharmonious  sounds 
from  a  lute,  which  was  hanging  over  his  shaggy 
shoulders,  suspended  on  a  red  ribbon;  but  as  soon 
as  the  door  of  the  hall  was  thrown  open,  and  the 
rustling  dress  of  the  Duchess  was  heard  approach- 
ing, the  nocturnal  phantom  turned  round,  and 
slowly  tumbled  back  into  the  echoing  passage. 

The  old  housekeeper  then  began  telling  their 
mistress  how  they  had  sat  merrily  together,  rejoic- 
ing over  their  presents,  when  the  monster  had  come 
in  upon  them,  and  had  first  executed  a  dance,  to 
his  own  lute  playing,  but  how  he  had  aftenvard 
blown  out  the  candles,  threatening  the  frightened 

225 


Ekkehard  I 

maidens  with  kisses  and  embraces,  and  finally  be- 
coming so  wild  and  obstreperous  that  they  had  all 
been  obliged  to  take  flight.  i 

Judging  from  the  hoarse  laughter  of  the  bear, 
there  was  strong  reason  for  suspecting  Master 
Spazzo's  being  hidden  under  the  shaggy  fur,  he, 
after  imbibing  a  considerable  quantity  of  wine, 
having  perhaps  decided  to  conclude  his  Christmas 
frolics  in  that  way.  i    . 

Dame  Hadwig  quieted  her  excited  servants,  and 
bade  them  go  to  bed.  From  the  yard,  however, 
was  soon  heard  another  cry  of  surprise.  There 
they  all  stood  in  a  group,  steadfastly  looking  up 
at  the  tower;  for  the  terrible  bear  had  climbed 
up,  and  was  now  promenading  on  the  top  of  it, 
lifting  his  shaggy  head  up  to  the  stars,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  send  a  greeting  to  his  namesake  in  the 
firmament,  the  Great  Bear.  ^ 

The  dark  figure  stood  out  in  clear  outlines 
against  the  pale  starry  sky,  and  his  growls  sounded 
weirdly  through  the  silent  night;  but  no  mortal 
was  ever  told  what  the  luminous  stars  revealed  to 
the  wine-clouded  brain  of  Master  Spazzo  the 
chamberlain.  i 

At  the  same  midnight  hour,  Ekkehard  knelt  be- 
fore the  altar  of  the  castle  chapel,  softly  chanting 
the  Christmas  matins,  as  the  church  rules  pre- 
scribed. 


226 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    OLD    MAN    OF    THE    PAGAN'S    CAVE 

The  remainder  of  the  winter  passed  by  mo- 
notonously, and  in  consequence  slowly  enough. 
Prayer  and  work,  Virgil  and  grammar,  continued 
as  usual.  Dame  Hadwig  had  quite  given  up  ask- 
ing dangerous  questions.  During  the  Carnival, 
the  neighboring  nobility  came  to  pay  their  re- 
spects to  the  Duchess.  Those  of  Nellenburg  and 
of  Veringen ;  the  old  Count  of  Argengau  with  his 
daughters,  the  Guelphs  from  over  the  lake,  and 
many  others;  and  in  those  days  there  was  much 
feasting,  accompanied  by  more  drinking.  After 
that,  it  became  lonely  again  on  the  top  of  the 
Hohentwiel. 

March  had  come,  and  Heavy  gales  blew  over  the 
land.  On  the  first  starlight  night,  a  comet  was 
seen  in  the  sky;  and  the  stork  which  lived  comfort- 
ably on  the  castle  gable  had  flown  away  again,  a 
week  after  its  return.  At  all  these  things,  people 
shook  their  heads.  Further,  a  shepherd,  driving 
his  flock  past  the  hill,  told  how  he  had  met  the 
"army  caterpillar"  in  large  numbers,  a  sure  sign 
of  coming  war.  ' 

22y 


Ekkehard  I 

A  strange,  uncomfortable  feeling  took  posses- 
sion of  all  minds.  The  approach  of  an  earthquake 
is  often  felt  at  a  considerable  distance;  here,  by  the 
stopping  of  a  spring,  there,  by  the  anxious  flying 
about  of  birds ;  and  in  the  same  way  the  danger  of 
war  makes  itself  felt  beforehand.  i 

Master  Spazzo,  who  had  bravely  sat  behind  the 
wine-jug  in  February,  now  walked  about  with  a 
downcast  expression.  "You  are  to  do  me  a  favor," 
said  he  one  day  to  Ekkehard.  "I  have  seen  a  dead 
fish  in  my  dream,  floating  on  its  back.  I  wish  to 
make  my  last  will.  The  world  has  become  old 
and  is  left  standing  on  its  last  leg;  and  that  also 
will  soon  give  way.  Good-by  then,  Firnewinel 
Besides,  we  are  not  very  far  off  from  the  millen- 
nium, and  have  lived  merrily  enough.  Perhaps  the 
last  years  count  double.  At  any  rate,  mankind 
can  not  go  on  much  longer  in  this  way.  Knowl- 
edge has  advanced  so  far,  that  in  this  one  castle  of 
Hohentwiel  more  than  half  a  dozen  books  lie 
heaped  up ;  and  when  a  fellow  gets  a  good  thrash- 
ing, he  goes  up  to  court  and  makes  his  complaint, 
instead  of  burning  down  his  enemy's  house  over 
his  head.  With  such  a  state  of  affairs,  the  world 
must  naturally  soon  come  to  an  end." 

"Who  is  to  be  your  heir,  if  all  the  world  is  to 
perish?''  was  Ekkehard's  reply.  ' 

A  man  of  Augsburg,  coming  to  the  cloister  of 
Reichenau,  also  brought  evil  tidings.    Bishop  Ul- 

228 


Ekkehard 

rich  had  promised  a  precious  relic  to  the  monas- 
tery— the  right  arm  of  the  holy  Theopontus,  richly 
set  in  silver  and  precious  stones.  He  now  sent 
word  that  as  the  country  was  unsafe  at  present, 
he  could  not  risk  transmitting  it. 

The  Abbot  ordered  the  man  to  go  to  the  Hohen- 
twiel,  there  to  inform  the  Duchess  of  the  state  of 
things. 

"What  is  the  good  news?"  asked  she,  on  his  pre- 
senting himself. 

"There's  not  much  good  news.  I  would  rather 
take  away  better  from  here.  The  vassalage  of 
Suabia  is  up  in  arms,  horse  and  foot;  as  many 
as  have  a  sword  and  shield  hanging  on  their  walls 
are  ready.  They  are  on  the  march  again,  between 
the  Danube  and  the  Rhine." 

"Who?" 

"The  old  enemies  from  yonder.  The  small  fel- 
lows with  the  deep-set  eyes  and  blunt  noses.  A 
good  deal  of  our  meat  will  be  ridden  tender  again 
under  their  saddles  this  year." 

He  drew  out  of  his  pocket  a  strangely  shaped 
small  horseshoe,  with  a  high  heel  to  it.  "Do  you 
know  this?  A  little  shoe,  and  a  little  steed,  a 
crooked  sabre,  and  arrows  fleet;  as  quick  as  light- 
ning, and  never  at  rest;  O  Lord,  deliver  us  from 
this  pest!" 

"The  Huns?"  exclaimed  the  Duchess,  in  startled 
tones. 

229 


Ekkehard 

"If  you  prefer  to  call  them  Hungarians,  or 
Hungry-ones,  'tis  the  same  to  me,"  said  the  mes- 
senger. "Bishop  Pilgrim  sent  the  tidings  from 
Passau  to  Freising,  whence  it  reached  us.  They 
have  already  swum  the  Danube,  and  will  be  fall- 
ing like  locusts  into  the  German  lands;  and  they 
are  as  quick  as  winged  devils.  'You  may  sooner 
catch  the  wind  on  the  plain,  or  the  bird  in  the  air,' 
is  an  old  saying  with  us.  May  the  plague  take 
their  horses!" 

"It  is  impossible!"  said  Dame  Hadwig.  "Can 
they  have  forgotten  already  what  answer  the  mes- 
sengers of  the  Exchequer  returned  them :  We  have 
iron  and  swords  and  five  fingers  to  our  hands?' 
At  the  battle  by  the  river  Inn,  their  heads  were 
made  acquainted  with  the  truth  of  these  words." 

"Just  for  that  very  reason,"  said  the  man.  "He 
who  has  been  beaten  once  likes  to  come  back  and 
beat  the  enemy  in  his  turn.  The  messengers  of  the 
Exchequer,  in  reward  for  their  bravery,  have  had 
their  heads  cut  off;  so  who  will  like  taking  their 
places  in  the  front  ranks?" 

"We  likewise  know  the  path  which  has  been 
trodden  by  our  ancestors  going  to  meet  the  enemy," 
proudly  returned  the  Duchess. 

She  dismissed  the  man  from  Augsburg  with  a 
present.    Then  she  sent  for  Ekkehard.  i 

"Virgil  will  have  to  rest  a  while,"  said  she,  tell- 
ing him  of  the  danger  that  was  threatening  from 

230 


Ekkehard 

the  Huns.  This  state  of  things  was  by  no  means 
pleasant.  The  nobles  had  forgotten,  in  their  many 
personal  feuds,  how  to  act  and  stand  up  together; 
while  the  Emperor,  of  Saxon  origin  and  not  over- 
fond  of  the  Suabians,  was  fighting  in  Italy,  far 
away  from  the  German  frontier.  So  the  passage 
to  the  Bodensee  was  open  to  the  invaders,  whose 
mere  name  caused  terror  wherever  it  was  pro- 
nounced. For  years  their  tribes  swarmed  like 
will-o'-the-wisps  through  the  unsettled  realm 
which  Charlemagne  had  left  in  the  hands  of  in- 
competent successors.  From  the  shores  of  the 
North  Sea,  where  the  ruins  of  Bremen  spoke  of 
their  invasion,  down  to  the  southern  point  of  Cala- 
bria, where  the  natives  had  to  pay  a  ransom  for 
each  head,  fire  and  plunder  marked  their  way. 

"If  they  are  not  ghosts  which  the  pious  Bishop 
Ulrich  has  seen,"  said  the  Duchess,  "they  are  cer- 
tain to  come  to  us  also ;  so  what  is  to  be  done?  Are 
we  to  meet  them  in  open  battle?  Even  bravery  is 
folly  when  the  enemy  is  too  numerous.  Are  we 
to  obtain  peace  by  paying  tribute  and  ransom,  thus 
driving  them  over  to  our  neighbors'  territory? 
Others  have  done  that  before,  but  our  ideas  of 
honor  and  dishonor  are  different.  Are  we  to  bar- 
ricade ourselves  on  the  Hohentwiel,  and  leave  the 
land  at  their  mercy,  when  we  have  promised  our 
protection  to  our  subjects?  Never!  What  do  you 
advise?" 

231 


Ekkehard 

"My  knowledge  does  not  extend  to  such  mat- 
ters," sorrowfully  replied  Ekkehard.  [ 

The  Duchess  was  excited.  "Oh,  schoolmaster," 
cried  she  reproachfully,  "why  has  Heaven  not 
made  you  a  warrior?  Many  things  would  be  bet- 
ter then!"  i 

Ekkehard,  deeply  hurt,  turned  to  go.  The 
words  had  entered  his  heart  like  an  arrow,  and 
remained  there.  The  reproach  had  some  truth 
in  it,  so  it  hurt  him  all  the  more. 

"Ekkehard,"  called  out  Dame  Hadwig,  "you 
must  not  go.  You  are  to  serve  the  country  with 
your  knowledge,  and  what  you  do  not  know  as 
yet,  you  may  learn.  I  will  send  you  to  some  one 
who  is  well  versed  in  these  matters.  Will  you 
undertake  this  mission  for  me?" 

Ekkehard  had  turned  round  again.  "I  never 
have  been  unwilling  to  serve  my  mistress,"  said  he. 

"But  then  you  must  not  be  frightened,  if  he 
gives  you  a  rough  and  unfriendly  reception.  He 
has  suffered  many  a  wrong  from  past  generations; 
and  he  does  not  know  the  present.  Neither  must 
you  be  shocked,  if  he  should  appear  very  old  and 
repelling  to  you."  ' 

He  had  listened  attentively.  "I  do  not  quite 
understand  you  .  .  ." 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  Duchess.  "You  are  to 
go  over  to  Sipplingen  to-morrow,  close  to  Ueber- 
lingen,  where  the  rocky  shore  shelves  down  into 

232 


Ekkehard 

the  lake.  These  caverns  were  made  in  the  olden 
times  to  serve  as  hiding-places.  When  you  see  the 
smoke  of  a  fire  rising  out  of  the  hill,  go  to  that 
spot.  There  you  will  find  the  person  I  want  you  to 
see;  and  you  must  then  speak  with  him  about  the 
Huns." 

"To  whom  is  my  mistress  sending  me?"  in- 
quired Ekkehard,  eagerly. 

"To  the  old  man  of  the  Heidenhohle,"  replied 
Dame  Hadwig.  "One  does  not  know  any  other 
name  for  him  hereabouts.  But  stop,"  continued 
she,  "I  must  give  you  the  watchword,  in  case  of 
his  refusing  you  admittance." 

She  opened  a  cupboard,  and,  searching  about 
among  her  trinkets  and  other  small  things,  took 
out  a  tiny  slate,  on  which  were  scrawled  a  few  let- 
ters. "That  you  are  to  say  to  him,  besides  giving 
him  my  kindest  greetings." 

Ekkehard  looked  at  the  slate.  It  contained  only 
the  two  insignificant  Latin  words,  ^^neque  enimP^ 
Nothing  else. 

"That  has  no  meaning,"  said  he. 

"Never  mind,  the  old  man  knows  well  what  it 
means  for  him." 

Before  cockcrow  the  next  morning,  Ekkehard 
passed  out  of  the  gate  on  the  Hohentwiel  on  horse- 
back. The  fresh  morning  air  blew  about  his  head, 
over  which  he  now  drew  his  hood.  "Why  has 
Heaven  not  made  you  a  warrior?    Many  things 

233 


V 


Ekkehard  j 

would  be  better  then."  These  words  of  the  Duch- 
ess accompanied  him,  like  his  own  shadow.  They 
were  for  him  a  spur  to  courageous  resolutions. 
"When  danger  comes,  she  shall  not  find  the  school- 
master sitting  behind  his  books,"  thought  he. 

His  horse  went  on  at  a  good  pace.  In  a  few 
hours  he  rode  over  the  woody  hills  that  separate 
the  Untersee  from  the  lake  of  Ueberlingen.  At 
the  ducal  tenement  of  Sernatingen,  the  blue  mirror 
of  the  lake  lay  stretched  out  before  his  eyes.  There 
he  left  his  horse  in  the  care  of  the  steward,  and 
continued  the  path  leading  along  the  shore  on  foot. 

At  a  projecting  point  he  stopped  a  while  to  gaze 
at  leisure  at  the  fine  view  before  him.  The  eye, 
here  meeting  with  no  obstacle,  could  glance  over 
the  waters  to  the  distant  Rhaetian  Alps,  which,  like 
a  crystal  wall,  rise  heavenward,  forming  the  back- 
ground of  the  landscape. 

Where  the  rocks  of  red  sandstone  steeply  arise 
out  of  the  lake  the  path  mounted  upward.  Steps 
hewn  in  the  rocks  made  the  ascent  easier.  Here 
and  there  apertures,  serving  as  windows,  broke  the 
uniformity  of  the  walls,  indicating  by  their  deep 
shadows  the  places  where,  in  the  times  of  the 
Roman  supremacy,  unknown  men  had  dug  these 
caverns  as  an  asylum,  in  the  same  way  as  the  cata- 
combs. 

The  ascent  was  fatiguing  enough.  Now  he  had 
reached  a  level  only  a  few  steps  in  circumference, 

234 


Ekkehard 

on  which  young  grass  was  growing.  In  front,  there 
was  an  entrance  into  the  rock,  about  the  height  of 
a  man.  Out  of  this  there  now  rushed,  violently 
barking,  a  huge  black  dog,  which  stopped  short 
about  two  paces  from  Ekkehard,  ready  to  fly  at 
him  with  teeth  and  fangs,  and  keeping  its  eyes 
steadily  fixed  on  the  monk,  who  could  not  move 
without  risk  of  the  dog's  attacking  him.  His  posi- 
tion was  certainly  not  an  enviable  one,  retreat 
being  impossible,  and  Ekkehard  carrying  no  arms 
about  him.  So  he  remained  motionless,  facing  his 
enemy,  when  at  an  opening  there  appeared  the 
head  of  a  man,  with  gray  hair,  piercing  eyes,  and 
a  reddish  beard. 

"Call  back  the  dog!"  cried  Ekkehard. 

A  few  moments  afterward,  the  gray-haired  man 
appeared  at  the  entrance,  armed  with  a  spear. 

"Back,  Mummolin!"  cried  he. 

The  huge  animal  reluctantly  obeyed;  and  not 
until  the  old  man  had  threatened  it  with  his  spear 
did  it  retreat  growling. 

"Your  dog  ought  to  be  killed,  and  hung  up  nine 
feet  over  your  door,  until  it  fall  to  pieces,"  said 
Ekkehard  angrily.  "It  nearly  made  me  fall  over 
into  the  lake,"  turning  round,  and  beholding  the 
lake  lying  at  his  feet  from  the  perpendicular 
height. 

"In  the  Heidenhohlen  the  common  laws  have 
no  force,"  defiantly  replied  the  old  man.     "With 

235 


Ekkehard 

us  'tis — keep  off  two  steps,  or  we  split  your 
skull."  , 

Ekkehard  wanted  to  go  on. 

"Stop  there,"  continued  the  stranger,  barring 
the  passage  with  his  spear.  "Not  so  fast,  if  you 
please.    Where  are  you  going  to?" 

"To  the  old  man  of  the  Heidenhohle." 

"To  the  old  man  of  the  Heidenhohle?"  angrily 
repeated  the  other.  "Have  you  no  more  respectful 
term  for  that  personage,  you  yellow-beaked  cowl- 
bearer?"  ' 

"I  know  no  other  name,"  replied  Ekkehard, 
somewhat  abashed.  "My  greeting  is  ^neque 
entm. 

"That  sounds  better,"  said  the  old  man  in  a 
softer  tone.    "From  whence  do  you  come?" 

"From  the  Hohentwiel.    I  am  to  tell  you  .  .  ." 

"Stop,  I  am  not  he  whom  you  seek.  I  am 
merely  his  servant  Rauching.  I  will  announce 
you."  I 

Considering  the  appearance  of  those  barren, 
rocky  walls  and  the  black  dog,  this  formality 
seemed  somewhat  out  of  place.  Ekkehard  was 
kept  waiting  some  time.  It  was  as  if  preparations 
for  his  reception  were  being  made.  At  last  Rau- 
ching made  his  reappearance.  "Be  pleased  to 
enter."  So  they  walked  along  a  dark  passage  that 
widened  at  the  end,  admitting  them  into  a  cham- 
ber which  had  been  hewn  in  the  rocks  by  human 

236 


Ekkehard 

hands,  high  and  spacious,  with  an  arched  ceiling. 
A  rough  paneling  partly  covered  the  walls.  The 
openings  for  the  windows  were  wide  and  airy, 
showing  a  piece  of  the  lake  and  hills,  like  a  pic- 
ture in  a  frame.  Some  bright,  warm  sunbeams 
streamed  in,  lighting  up  the  otherwise  dark  cham- 
ber. Here  and  there  traces  of  stone  benches  were 
visible;  while  a  high-backed  chair,  likewise  of 
stone,  and  resembling  a  bishop's  seat  in  old 
churches,  stood  beside  the  window.  Here,  in  the 
Heidenhohle  proper — the  "Pagans'  Cave" — ^was 
seated  a  strange,  human  form  of  mighty  dimen- 
sions. The  huge  head  rested  heavily  between  the 
broad  shoulders ;  forehead  and  cheeks  were  deeply 
furrowed.  Round  his  temples  were  a  few  scanty 
white  curls;  while  his  mouth  was  almost  entirely 
toothless — signs  which  spoke  of  the  wondrous  age 
of  the  man.  Round  his  shoulders  hung  a  cloak  of 
undecided  color,  the  back  of  which,  hidden  by  the 
chair,  was  no  doubt  threadbare  enough,  the  seams 
showing,  here  and  there,  many  a  patch.  He  wore 
a  pair  of  coarse  boots,  and  by  his  side  lay  an  old 
hat,  with  a  dusty  old  trimming  of  fox's  fur.  In 
a  niche  in  the  wall  stood  a  chess-board  with  carved 
ivory  pieces.  A  game  seemed  just  to  have  been 
finished:  the  king  mated  by  a  knight,  and  two 
bishops. 

"Who  comes  to  the  forgotten  one?"  asked  the 
old  man,  in  a  trembling  voice.    Then  Ekkehard, 

237 


Ekkehard 

bowing  his  head  before  him,  told  his  name  and 
who  had  sent  him  there. 

"You  have  brought  an  evil  watchword  with  you. 
Do  people  still  speak  of  Luitward  of  Vercelli?" 

"Whose  soul  be  damned,"  added  Ranching. 

"I  have  never  heard  anything  about  him,"  said 
Ekkehard.  i 

"Tell  him,  Rauching,  who  Luitward  of  Vercelli 
was.  It  would  be  a  pity  if  he  were  to  die  in  the 
memory  of  men." 

"He  was  the  greatest  rascal  that  ever  the  sun 
shone  upon,"  was  Rauching's  reply. 

"Tell  him  also  what  is  the  meaning  of  *neque 
enim/  " 

"There  is  no  gratitude  in  this  world;  and  of  an 
Emperor's  friends  even  the  best  is  a  traitor." 

"Even  the  best  is  a  traitor,"  murmured  the  old 
man,  lost  in  thought.  His  eye  now  fell  on  the  chess- 
board. "Ah,  yes,"  muttered  he  faintly,  "check- 
mated, mated  by  bishops  and  knights.  .  .  ."  He 
clenched  his  fist,  and  made  a  movement  as  if  to 
rise ;  then,  falling  back  with  a  deep  sigh,  he  raised 
his  shriveled  hand  to  his  forehead,  resting  his 
heavy  head  on  it.  ' 

"The  headache,"  said  he,  "the  cursed  head- 
ache!" 

i  -         -  - 

"Mummolin!"  cried  Rauching. 
With  bounding  steps  the  black  dog  came  in ;  and 
on  seeing  the  old  man  with  head  bent  down,  he 

238 


Ekkehard 

whiningly  crept  up  to  him,  and  licked  his  fore- 
head. "  'Tis  well,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a  while, 
lifting  himself  up  again. 

"Are  you  ill?"  kindly  asked  Ekkehard. 

"111?'*  rejoined  he;  "maybe  it  is  a  sort  of 
illness  I  I  have  been  visited  by  it  such  a  long  time 
that  it  seems  quite  like  an  old  acquaintance.  Have 
you  ever  had  the  headache?  I  advise  you  never 
to  go  out  to  battle  when  you  are  attacked  by  a 
headache  and  by  no  means  to  conclude  a  peace. 
It  may  cost  you  a  realm,  that  headache.  .  .  ." 

"Could  not  some  physician — "  began  Ekke- 
hard. 

"The  wisdom  of  physicians  has,  in  this  case, 
long  come  to  an  end.  They  have  done  their  best 
for  me,"  pointing  to  his  forehead,  where  two  old 
scars  crossed  each  other. 

"Look  here!  If  they  want  you  to  try  that  rem- 
edy, you  must  not  do  so.  In  my  younger  days  they 
hung  me  up  by  the  feet ;  then  they  made  some  cuts 
in  my  head,  thus  taking  away  some  blood,  and  part 
of  my  brains,  without  helping  me.  At  Cremona 
(Zedekias  was  the  name  of  the  Hebrew  sage)  they 
consulted  the  stars,  and  placed  me  on  a  mulberry- 
tree  at  midnight.  It  was  a  long  exorcism  with 
which  they  drove  the  headache  into  the  tree,  but 
it  did  not  help  me.  In  the  German  lands  they 
ordered  me  to  take  powdered  crabs'  eyes,  mixed 
with  the  dust  of  St.  Mark's  grave,  and  a  draft  of 

239 


Ekkehard 

sour  of  all  the  sour  wines  produced  on  the  lake. 
Rauching  waited  upon  them  during  the  meal. 

"Well,  what  may  your  business  be?"  asked  the 
old  man,  when  the  meagre  repast  was  ended. 

"Evil  tidings;  the  Huns  are  invading  the  coun- 
try. Their  hoofs  will  soon  be  treading  the  Suabian 
ground." 

"Good!"  cried  the  old  man.  "That  serves  you 
right.    Are  the  Normans  also  approaching?" 

"You  speak  strangely,"  said  Ekkehard. 

The  eyes  of  the  old  man  lighted  up.  "And  if 
enemies  were  to  spring  up  around  you,  like  mush- 
rooms, you  have  deserved  it  well;  you  and  your 
masters.  Rauching,  fill  the  glass;  the  Huns  are 
coming — neque  enimf  Now  you  will  have  to 
swallow  the  soup  which  your  masters  have  salted 
for  you.  A  great  and  proud  empire  had  been 
founded,  extending  from  the  shores  of  the  Ebro  to 
the  Raab  in  the  Danish  land,  into  which  not  a  rat 
could  have  entered  without  faithful,  watchmen 
catching  it.  And  this  the  great  Emperor  Charle- 
magne— " 

"God  bless  him,"  exclaimed  Rauching. 

" — left  behind  him,  strong  and  powerful.  The 
tribes  which  had  once  put  a  stop  to  the  Roman 
supremacy  were  all  united  as  they  ought  to  be ;  and 
in  those  days  the  Huns  slyly  kept  behind  their 
hedges  on  the  Danube,  the  weather  not  being  fa- 
vorable for  them;  and  as  soon  as  they  tried  to 

241 

Vol.  3  (A)-ii 


Ekkehard  I 

move,  their  wooden  camp-town  in  Pannonia  was 
destroyed  to  the  last  chip  by  the  brave  Franks. 
Later,  the  great  ones  in  Germany  began  to  feel 
sorely  that  not  every  one  of  them  could  be  the  mas- 
ter of  the  world ;  so  each  one  must  needs  establish 
a  government  in  his  own  territory.  Sedition,  re- 
bellion, and  high  treason  suited  their  tastes  well; 
and  so  they  dethroned  the  last  of  Charlemagne's 
descendants,  who  held  the  reins  of  the  world.  The 
representative  of  the  unity  of  the  realm  has  become 
a  beggar  who  must  eat  unbuttered  water-gruel; 
and  now  your  lords,  who  preferred  Arnulf  the 
bastard  and  their  own  arrogance,  have  got  the 
Huns  on  their  heels,  and  the  old  times  are  coming 
back,  as  King  Attila  had  them  painted.  Do  you 
know  the  picture  in  the  palace  at  Milan? 

"There  the  Roman  Emperor  was  painted  sitting 
on  the  throne,  with  Scythian  princes  lying  at  his 
feet,  till  one  day  King  Attila,  chancing  to  ride  by, 
gave  a  long  and  steadfast  look  at  the  picture,  and 
laughingly  said:  'Quite  right;  only  I'll  make  a 
small  alteration.'  And  he  had  his  own  features 
given  to  the  man  on  the  throne,  those  kneeling  be- 
fore him,  pouring  out  bags  of  tributary  gold,  being 
now  the  Roman  Caesars.  The  picture  is  still  to  be 
seen." 

"You  are  thinking  of  bygone  tales,"  said  Ekke- 
hard. 

"Of  bygone  tales?"  exclaimed  the  old  man.    "For 

242 


Ekkehard 

me  there  has  been  nothing  new  these  last  forty 
years  but  want  and  misery.  Bygone  tales!  'Tis 
well  for  him  who  still  remembers  them,  in  order 
that  he  may  see  how  the  sins  of  the  fathers  are 
visited  on  the  children  and  children's  children. 
Do  you  know  why  Charlemagne  shed  tears  once  in 
his  life?  When  they  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
Norman  pirates  to  him,  'As  long  as  I  live,'  said  he, 
*  'tis  mere  child's  play,  but  I  grieve  for  my  grand- 
sons.' " 

"As  yet  we  have  still  an  Emperor  and  a  realm,'* 
said  Ekkehard. 

"Have  you  still  one?"  said  the  old  man,  drain- 
ing his  glass  of  sour  Sippling  wine,  and  shivering 
after  it.  "Well,  I  wish  him  joy.  The  corner- 
stones are  dashed  to  pieces;  and  the  building  is 
crumbling  away.  With  a  clique  of  presumptuous 
nobles,  no  realm  can  exist.  Those  who  ought  to 
obey  are  lording  it  over  the  others;  and  he  who 
ought  to  reign  must  wheedle  and  flatter,  instead  of 
commanding.  Methinks  I  have  heard  of  one  to 
whom  his  faithful  subjects  sent  the  tribute  in  peb- 
bles instead  of  silver,  and  the  head  of  the  count 
who  was  sent  to  collect  it  lay  beside  the  stones  in 
the  bag.    Who  has  avenged  this?" 

"The  Emperor  is  fighting  and  gathering  laurels 
in  Italy,"  rejoined  Ekkehard. 

"Oh,  Italy!  Italy!"  continued  the  old  man. 
"That  will  before  long  become  a  thorn  in  the  Ger- 

243    - 


Ekkehard 

man  flesh.     That  was  the  only  time  the  great 
Charles—"  i 

"Whom  God  bless,"  exclaimed  Rauching. 

" — allowed  himself  to  be  entrapped.  It  was 
a  sad  day  on  which  they  crowned  him  at  Rome; 
and  no  one  has  chuckled  so  gleefully  as  he  on  St. 
Peter's  chair.  He  wanted  our  help,  but  what  busi- 
ness have  we  with  Italy?  Look  there!  Has  that 
heavenward  mountain-wall  been  erected  for  noth- 
ing? All  that  lies  on  the  other  side  belongs  to  the 
Byzantines;  and  it  is  right  so;  for  Greek  cunning 
is  better  there  than  German  strength;  but  later 
generations  have  found  nothing  better  to  do  than 
to  perpetuate  the  error  of  Charlemagne.  The 
good  example  he  left  them  they  have  trampled 
upon ;  and  while  there  was  plenty  to  do  in  the  East 
and  North,  they  must  needs  run  off  to  Italy,  as  if 
the  great  magnet  lay  behind  the  Roman  hills.  I 
have  often  thought  about  what  could  have  driven 
us  in  that  direction;  and  if  it  was  not  the  Devil 
himself,  it  can  only  have  been  their  good  wine." 

Ekkehard  had  become  saddened  by  the  old 
man's  speeches,  who,  seeming  to  feel  this,  said: 
"Do  not  regard  what  a  buried  man  tells  you.  We 
here  in  the  Heidenhohlen  can  not  make  it  any  bet- 
ter; but  the  truth  has  many  a  time  taken  up  her 
abode  in  caverns,  while  ignorance  was  striding  at 
a  great  pace  through  the  land." 

"A  buried  man?"  said  Ekkehard,  inquiringly. 

244  1 


Ekkehard 

*'You  may  for  all  that  drink  a  bumper  with 
him,"  jestingly  replied  the  mysterious  stranger. 
"It  was  necessary  that  I  should  vanish  from  the 
world,  for  the  headache  and  the  rascals  had 
brought  me  into  discredit.  You  need  not  stare  at 
me  so,  little  monk.  Sit  down  here  on  the  stone 
bench,  and  I  will  tell  you  about  it  and  you  can 

make  a  song  of  it  to  play  on  the  lute There  once 

lived  an  Emperor  who  had  few  happy  days,  for 
his  realm  was  large,  and  he  himself  was  big  and 
stout,  and  the  headache  tormented  him  ever  since 
the  day  that  he  mounted  the  throne.  Therefore  he 
took  unto  himself  a  chancellor,  who  had  got  a  fine 
head,  and  could  think  better  than  his  master;  for 
he  was  thin  and  meagre  like  a  rail,  and  had  no 
headache.  The  Emperor  had  raised  him  from  ob- 
scure birth,  for  he  was  only  the  son  of  a  black- 
smith; and  he  bestowed  favors  on  him,  doing  all 
that  his  chancellor  advised  him  to  do.  Ay,  he  even 
concluded  a  miserable  peace  with  the  Normans; 
for  his  counselor  told  him  that  this  matter  was  too 
insignificant,  and  that  he  had  more  important 
things  to  do  than  to  worry  himself  about  a  hand- 
ful of  pirates.  At  the  same  time,  the  chancellor 
went  to  the  Emperor's  spouse,  and  beguiled  her 
weak  heart,  playing  on  the  lute  before  her.  Be- 
sides this  he  carried  off  by  force  the  daughters  of 
some  noble  AUemannians ;  and  finally  joined  in 
a  league  with  the  Emperor's  enemies.    And  when 

.      \  245 


Ekkehard 

the  Emperor  at  last  called  together  a  great  diet, 
to  remedy  the  state  of  affairs,  his  gaunt  chancellor 
was  among  the  foremost  who  spoke  against  him. 
With  the  words  ^Neque  enM  he  began  his  speech, 
and  then  he  proved  to  them  that  they  must  dethrone 
their  Emperor;  and  he  spoke  so  venomously  and 
treacherously  against  the  peace  with  the  Normans, 
which  he  had  himself  concluded,  that  they  all  fell 
off  from  their  master,  like  withered  leaves  when 
the  autumn  winds  are  shaking  the  tree.  And  they 
cried  that  the  time  for  the  stout  ones  was  at  an  end; 
and  then  and  there  they  dethroned  him;  so  that  he 
who  had  entered  Tribur  with  a  threefold  crown 
on  his  head  had  nothing  when  he  went  away  that 
he  could  call  his  own  but  what  he  wore  on  his 
back;  and  at  Mainz  he  sat  before  the  Bishop's 
castle,  glad  when  they  presented  him  with  a  dish 
of  soup.  The  brave  chancellor's  name  was  Luit- 
ward  of  Vercelli.  May  God  reward  him  accord- 
ing to  his  deserts,  and  the  Empress  Richardis  and 
the  rest  of  them  likewise. 

"But  when  later  the  people  in  Suabia  took  pity 
on  the  poor  outlaw,  and  gave  him  a  little  bit  of 
land,  whereby  to  earn  a  scant  livelihood;  and  when 
they  thought  of  sending  an  army  to  fight  for  his 
rights,  Luitward  despatched  murderers  against 
him.  It  was  a  wild  night  for  the  tenement  of  Nei- 
dingen;  the  storm  was  breaking  the  branches  of 
the  trees,  and  the  shutters  were  rattling  violently. 

246 


Ekkehard 

[The  dethroned  Emperor,  not  being  able  to  sleep 
on  account  of  the  headache,  had  mounted  on  the 
roof,  to  let  the  storm  cool  his  burning  forehead, 
when  they  broke  in  to  murder  him.  It  is  not  a 
very  pleasant  feeling,  I  can  tell  you,  to  sit  in  the 
cold  night-air  on  the  roof,  with  a  heavy  aching 
head,  and  hear  how  people  are  regretting  down- 
stairs that  they  can  not  strangle  you  or  hang  you 
over  the  well." 

"He  who  has  lived  to  hear  that  had  better  die 
at  once.  The  stout  Meginhard  at  Neidingen  had 
fallen  down  from  a  tree  and  was  killed  just  at  the 
right  time,  so  that  they  could  lay  him  on  the  bier 
and  spread  the  news  in  the  country  that  the  de- 
throned Emperor  had  paid  his  tribute  to  grim 
King  Death.  They  say  that  it  was  a  fine  proces- 
sion when  they  carried  him  to  the  Reichenau. 
The  heavens  are  said  to  have  opened,  casting  a  ray 
of  light  on  the  bier;  and  the  funeral  must  have 
been  touching  indeed,  when  they  buried  him  on 
the  right  side  of  the  altar.  That  he  had  been 
stripped  of  his  honor,  and  bereft  of  his  kingdom, 
was  a  trial  imposed  from  above,  to  cleanse  and 
purify  his  soul,  and  as  he  bore  it  patiently,  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  the  Lord  rewarded  him  with  the 
crown  of  eternal  life  to  comfort  him  for  the  earthly 
crown  which  he  had  lost.'  Thus  they  preached  in 
the  cloister-church,  not  knowing  that  he,  whom 
they  imagined  they  had  buried,  was  at  that  same 

247 


Ekkehard  i 

■'■■■■  1  ,  -■ ' 

hour  entering  the  solitude  of  the  Heidenhohlen, 
laden  with  all  his  trifling  belongings,  and  leaving 
behind  him  a  curse  against  the  world." 

The  old  man  laughed.  "Here  it  is  safe  and  quiet 
enough  for  thinking  of  old  times.  Let's  drink  a 
bumper  to  the  dead  I  And  Luitward  has  been 
cheated  after  all ;  for  though  his  Emperor  wears 
an  old  hat  instead  of  a  golden  crown,  and  drinks 
the  sour  juice  of  the  Sippling  grape  instead  of  the 
sparkling  Rhine  wine,  he  is  still  alive;  while  the 
thin  ones  and  all  their  race  died  long  ago.  And 
the  stars  will  prove  right  after  all  in  prophesying 
at  his  birth  that  he  would  leave  this  false  world  in 
the  roar  of  battle.  The  Huns  are  coming!  Oh, 
come  thou  also  soon,  thou  joyful  end!"  ^ 

Ekkehard  had  listened  with  the  utmost  atten- 
tion. "O  Lord,  how  wonderful  are  Thy  ways,"  he 
exclaimed,  attempting  to  kneel  down  and  kiss  the 
old  man's  hands;  but  he  prevented  him,  saying: 
"All  these  things  have  been  done  away  with  long 
ago.    Take  an  example — " 

"Germany  has  greatly  wronged  you  and  your 
race,"  Ekkehard  was  beginning  to  say,  but  the  old 
man  interrupted  him,  saying:  "Germany!  I  do 
not  bear  her  a  grudge.  May  she  prosper  and 
flourish,  undisturbed  by  enemies,  and  find  some 
ruler  who  will  make  her  powerful  again,  and  who 
will  not  be  plagued  with  the  headache  when  the 
Normans  come  back,  and  will  not  have  a  chancel- 

248  ! 


Ekkehard 

lor  whose  name  is  Luitward  of  Vercelli.  But  those 
who  have  divided  his  garments  among  them,  and 
cast  lots  for  his  vesture — " 

"May  Heaven  punish  them  with  fire  and  brim- 
stone," said  Ranching  in  the  background. 

"And  what  answer  shall  I  give  to  my  mis- 
tress?" asked  Ekkehard,  after  having  finished  his 
beaker. 

"With  regard  to  the  Huns?"  said  the  old  man. 
"I  believe  that  is  simple  enough.  Tell  the  Duch- 
ess to  go  into  the  woods,  and  to  see  what  the  hedge- 
hog does  when  an  enemy  is  coming  too  near.  It 
curls  itself  up  into  a  ball  and  presents  its  prickles, 
and  he  who  lays  hands  on  it  is  wounded.  Suabia 
has  got  plenty  of  lances.  Let  them  do  the  same. 
You  monks  will  not  be  the  worse  for  carrying 
spears.  And  if  your  mistress  wishes  to  know  still 
more,  then  you  may  tell  her  the  adage  which  rules 
in  the  Heidenhohlen.    Ranching,  what  is  it?" 

"Keep  two  steps  off,  or  we'll  break  your  head," 
he  replied. 

"And  if  there  should  be  a  question  of  peace, 
then  tell  her  that  the  old  man  of  the  Heidenhohle 
once  concluded  a  bad  one,  and  that  he  would  never 
do  so  again,  although  his  headache  were  as  bad  as 
ever,  and  that  he  would  much  rather  saddle  his 
own  horse  at  the  sound  of  the  war-trumpet  than — 
If  you  outlive  his  last  ride,  you  may  say  a  mass  for 
him." 

249 


Ekkehard 

The  old  man  had  spoken  with  a  strange  excite- 
ment. Suddenly  his  voice  broke  off ;  his  breath  be- 
came short,  almost  groaning,  and,  bending  his 
head,  he  said:  "It  is  coming  on  again." 

Ranching  hastily  presented  him  with  a  draft  of 
water;  but  the  oppression  did  not  subside. 

"We  must  try  the  remedy,"  said  Rauching. 
From  a  corner  of  the  chamber  he  rolled  forward 
a  heavy  block  of  stone,  about  a  man's  height,  bear- 
ing some  traces  of  sculpture,  which  they  had  found 
in  the  cavern — a  mystic  monument,  belonging  to 
former  inhabitants.  He  placed  it  upright  against 
the  wall.  It  appeared  as  if  a  human  head  bearing 
a  bishop's  mitre  had  once  been  represented  on  it. 
Rauching  now  seized  a  thick,  knotty  stick,  and, 
placing  another  in  the  hands  of  the  old  man,  began 
thrashing  away  at  the  stone  image,  and  pronounc- 
ing slowly  and  solemnly  the  following  words: 
"Luitward  of  Vercelli!  Traitor  and  adulterer, 
neque  enim!  Ravisher  of  nuns,  and  foul  rebel, 
neque  enimr  Heavily  fell  the  blows,  and  a  faint 
smile  lighted  up  the  withered  features  of  the  old 
man.  He  arose  and  began  striking  away  at  it  also, 
with  feeble  arms. 

"It  has  been  written  that  a  bishop  must  lead 
a  blameless  life,"  said  he  in  the  same  tone  as 
Rauching.  "Take  this  for  the  peace  with  the 
Normans !  This  for  the  seduction  of  the  Empress 
Richardis,  neque  enim!    This  for  the  diet  at  Tri- 

250 


Ekkehard 

bur,  and  that  for  the  election  of  Arnulf  I    Neque 

'Iff 
emm! 

The  cavern  rang  with  the  resounding  blows,  the 
stone  image  standing  immovable  under  the  fierce 
attacks.  The  old  man  became  more  and  more  re- 
lieved, warming  himself  by  giving  vent  to  the  old 
hatred  which  for  years  had  nourished  his  miser- 
able life. 

Ekkehard  did  not  quite  understand  the  meaning 
of  what  he  saw.  He  began  to  feel  uncomfortable, 
and  so  took  his  leave. 

"I  trust  you  have  been  enjoying  yourself  at  the 
expense  of  the  old  fool  up  there,"  said  the  steward 
of  Sernatingen  to  him,  when  he  brought  out  his 
saddled  horse.  "Does  he  still  believe  that  he  has 
lost  a  crown  and  a  kingdom?    Ha,  ha!" 

Ekkehard  rode  away.  In  a  beech  wood  the 
new  green  leaves  were  sprouting  forth,  telling  of 
the  coming  spring.  A  young  monk  from  the 
Reichenau  cloister  was  going  the  same  road.  Bold 
and  gay,  like  the  clashing  of  arms,  his  song  floated 
through  the  solitary  wood : 

"Arise,  ye  men  of  Germany,  ye  warriors  gay ; 
With  warlike  song,  and  watchman's  call,  drive  sleep  away! 
At  ev'ry  hour  make  the  round,  from  gate  to  wall 
Lest  unawares  the  enemy  upon  you  fall. 
From  walls  and  towers  then  be  heard,  eia  vigila! 
The  echoes  all  repeating,  eia  mgila!" 

;  ;  251 


Ekkehard 

It  was  the  song  which  the  night-guards  sang  at 
Mutina  in  Italy,  while  the  Huns  were  attacking 
the  town  in  which  the  Bishop  resided.  The  young 
monk  had  himself  stood  on  guard  at  the  gate  of  St. 
Geminianus  three  years  ago,  and  well  knew  the 
hissing  of  the  Hunnic  arrows ;  and  when  a  presen- 
timent of  new  battles  is,  so  to  say,  in  the  air  the  old 
songs  rise  again  in  the  minds  of  men.  i 


CHAPTER   Xn  I 

THE   APPROACH    OF   THE    HUNS  | 

"The  old  man  is  right,"  said  Dame  Hadwig 
when  Ekkehard  reported  to  her  the  result  of  his 
mission.  "When  the  enemy  threatens,  prepare  for 
him,  and  when  he  attacks,  beat  him;  that  is  so 
simple  that  one  really  need  not  ask  advice.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  habit  of  long  thinking  and  wavering 
in  critical  moments  has  been  sown  by  the  enemy 
like  weeds  in  the  German  lands.  He  who  doubts 
is  near  falling;  and  he  who  misses  the  right  mo- 
ment for  action  often  digs  his  own  grave.  We  will 
get  ready."  i 

The  exciting  and  dangerous  position  put  the 
Duchess  into  high  spirits,  just  as  trout  delight  in 
rushing  over  rocks  and  stones  of  turbulent  waters, 

while  they  sicken  in  a  still  lake.    An  example  of 

252 


Ekkehard 

courage  and  energy  given  by  one  in  power  is  never 
lost  on  inferiors.  So  they  were  all  busy  making 
preparations  for  the  reception  of  the  enemy.  From 
the  tower  on  the  Hohentwiel,  visible  at  a  great 
distance,  the  war-flag  floated  forth  upon  the  air; 
and  through  the  woods  and  fields,  unto  the  remot- 
est farmsteads,  hidden  in  lonely  mountain  glens, 
the  war-trumpet  was  heard,  calling  together  all 
those  capable  of  bearing  arms,  poverty  alone  free- 
ing any  one  from  the  military  service.  Every  man 
possessing  more  than  two  acres  of  land  was  obliged 
to  place  himself  under  arms,  and  to  present  him- 
self at  the  first  call.  The  Hohentwiel  was  to  be 
headquarters,  nature  herself  having  made  it  a  for- 
tress. Swift  messengers  were  riding  on  horseback 
through  the  Hegau  district,  and  people  began  stir- 
ring everywhere  in  the  land.  Behind  the  dark  fir 
woods,  the  charcoal-burners  had  formed  a  corps. 
"This  will  do,"  said  one  of  them,  swinging  a  heavy 
poker  over  his  head,  as  if  about  to  strike  down  an 
enemy.     "I  will  also  fight  with  the  rest  of  them." 

At  the  doors  of  the  priests,  and  at  those  of  the 
old  and  sick,  the  messengers  also  knocked.  They 
who  could  not  fight  were  to  pray  for  the  others. 
This  decree  resounded  through  the  land,  reaching, 
too,  the  monastery  in  St.  Gall. 

Ekkehard  likewise  went  to  the  peaceful  little 
island  of  Reichenau,  as  the  Duchess  had  desired. 
This  mission  would  have  been  highly  distasteful  to 

'     253 


Ekkehard 

him,  if  the  reason  for  it  had  been  a  different  one. 
He  was  to  take  an  invitation  to  the  brotherhood 
to  come  to  the  Hohentwiel  in  case  of  danger. 

There  he  found  everything  already  in  a  state  of 
excitement.  The  brothers  were  promenading  be- 
side the  fountain  in  the  mild  spring  air;  but  not 
one  of  them  was  seriously  thinking  of  enjoying  the 
fine  weather  and  blue  sky.  They  were  talking  of 
the  evil  times  and  holding  counsel  on  what  was  to 
be  done.  The  idea  of  leaving  their  quiet  cells  did 
not  appear  to  please  them  at  all.  i 

"St.  Mark,"  one  of  them  had  said,  "will  protect 
his  disciples,  and  by  striking  the  enemy  with  blind- 
ness cause  them  to  ride  past;  or  he  will  raise  the 
waves  of  the  Bodensee  to  devour  them,  as  the  Red 
Sea  swallowed  up  the  Egyptians." 

But  old  Simon  Bardo  replied:  "This  calculation 
is  not  quite  safe ;  and  when  a  place  is  not  fortified 
by  towers  and  walls  a  retreat  might,  after  all,  be 
the  better  plan.  Wherever  a  shilling's  worth  is 
still  to  be  got,  no  Hun  will  ride  by,  and  if  you 
put  a  gold  piece  on  the  grave  of  a  dead  one,  his 
hand  will  grow  out  of  the  earth  to  seize  it." 

"Holy  Pirminius!"  said  the  gardener,  in  doleful 
accents,  "who  then  is  to  mind  the  fruits  and  vege- 
tables in  the  garden,  if  we  must  go?"  i 

"And  the  chickens?"  said  another,  whose  chief 
delight  was  in  the  poultry  yard.  "Have  we  bought 
the  three  dozen  turkeys  merely  for  the  enemy?" 

254  '    ;, 


Ekkehard 

"If  on^  were  to  write  an  impressive  letter  to 
them,'*  proposed  a  third,  "they  surely  could  not 
be  such  barbarians  as  to  harm  God  and  His 
saints." 

Simon  Bardo,  with  a  pitying  smile,  then  said: 
"Thou  hadst  better  become  a  shepherd,  and  drink 
a  decoction  of  camomile,  thou  who  wouldst  write 
impressive  letters  to  the  Huns!  Oh,  that  I  had 
brought  my  old  firework-maker  Kedrenus  with  me 
over  the  Alps!  Then  we  should  cast  a  light  on 
the  enemy  far  brighter  than  the  mild  moonshine 
in  the  flower-garden,  which  called  up  such  tender 
recollections  in  the  soul  of  Abbot  Walafrid.  We 
should  then  sink  ships  and  command  the  whole 
shore  with  our  long  fire-tubes.  Hurrah!  How 
they  would  be  scattered  to  the  winds,  w^hen  our 
missiles  would  be  flying  through  the  air  like  fiery 
dragons,  pouring  down  a  rain  of  burning  naphtha. 
But  what  do  any  of  you  know  about  Greek-fire? 
Oh,  Kedrenus,  thou  paragon  of  firework-makers!" 

Ekkehard  had  entered  the  monastery,  and  asked 
for  the  Abbot.  A  serving  brother  showed  him  up 
to  his  apartments;  but  he  was  neither  there,  nor 
was  he  to  be  seen  anywhere  else. 

"He  will  most  likely  be  in  the  armory,"  said  a 
passing  monk.  So  the  serving  brother  led  Ekke- 
hard to  the  armory,  which  was  situated  high  up  in 
the  tower.  There,  quantities  of  arms  and  harness 
were  heaped  up,  with  which  the  monastery  pro- 

255 


Ekkehard 

vided  its  warriors  who  were  to  act  with  the  lay 
vassals.  Abbot  Wazmann  stood  there,  hidden  by; 
a  cloud  of  dust.  He  had  had  the  armor  taken  down 
from  the  walls  to  examine  it.  Dust  and  cobwebs 
bore  witness  to  its  having  rested  for  a  long  while. 
During  the  examination,  the  Abbot  had  not  for- 
gotten to  provide  for  himself.  His  upper  gar- 
ment lay  on  the  ground  before  him;  and  in  its 
place  he  had  donned  a  coat  of  mail,  with  the  help 
of  a  fair-haired  cloister-pupil.  He  was  now 
stretching  out  his  arms  to  see  whether  it  fitted  him; 
tightly  and  comfortably. 

"Come  nearer!"  cried  he,  on  seeing  Ekkehard. 
"The  reception  is  fitted  to  the  times!" 

Ekkehard  then  communicated  the  Duchess's  in- 
vitation to  him.  1 

"I  should  have  asked  for  this  myself,"  replied 
he,  "if  you  had  not  come."  He  had  seized  a  long 
sword,  and  made  a  cut  in  the  air  with  it,  so  that 
Ekkehard  started  back  a  pace  or  two.  From  the 
swift,  whizzing  sound  which  it  produced,  one 
could  guess  that  the  hand  which  held  it  was  not 
unaccustomed  to  its  use. 

"Yes,  'tis  getting  serious,"  said  he.  "Down  in 
Altdorf  in  the  Shussen  valley,  the  Huns  have  al- 
ready effected  their  entrance;  and  we  shall  soon 
see  the  flames  of  Lindau  reflected  in  the  water. 
Do  you  also  wish  to  choose  a  suitable  armor  for 
yourself?    This  one  with  the  shoulder-strap  will 

256 


Ekkehard 

defeat  every  blow  or  thrust  as  well  as  the  finest 
linen  shirt  ever  spun  by  a  virgin  in  holy  nights." 

Ekkehard  courteously  declined  the  offer,  and 
then  went  down,  accompanied  by  the  Abbot,  who 
seemed  to  enjoy  his  coat  of  mail  thoroughly. 
(Throwing  his  brown  habit  over  it,  like  a  true 
champion  of  the  Lord,  he  made  his  appearance 
among  the  anxious  brotherhood  still  assembled  in 
the  garden. 

"St.  Mark  appeared  to  me  this  night,  pointing 
to  the  Hohentwiel,"  cried  the  Abbot.  'Thither 
thou  shalt  bring  my  remains,  to  save  them  from 
desecration  by  the  hands  of  the  heathen,"  he  said. 
*'Be  up  and  get  ready!  With  prayers  and  fasting 
your  souls  have  fought  to  the  present  moment  with 
the  Evil  One;  but  now  your  fists  are  to  prove  that 
you  are  warriors  indeed;  for  those  who  come  are 
the  sons  of  the  Devil.  Witches  and  demons  begot 
them  in  the  Asiatic  deserts.  All  their  doings  are 
vile  wickedness,  and  when  their  time  comes  they 
will  all  go  back  to  hell!" 

During  this  appeal,  even  the  most  careless  of 
the  brothers  became  convinced  that  danger  was 
near.  A  murmur  of  approbation  ran  through  their 
ranks;  for  the  cultivation  of  science  had  not  yet 
made  them  so  effeminate  but  that  they  looked  on  a 
warlike  expedition  as  a  very  desirable  pastime. 

With  his  back  leaning  against  an  apple  tree 
stood  Rudimann,   the   cellarer,   and   an   ominous 

257 


Ekkehard 

i 

frown  on  his  forehead.  Ekkehard  went  up  to 
him,  wishing  to  embrace  him,  as  a  sign  that  a  gen- 
eral calamity  was  wiping  out  the  old  quarrel;  but 
Rudimann,  waving  him  off,  said:  "I  know  what 
you  mean."  Then  drawing  a  coarse  thread  out  of 
the  seam  of  his  garment,  he  threw  it  to  the  ground, 
and  placed  his  foot  on  it. 

'^As  long  as  a  Hunnic  horse  is  treading  Ger- 
man ground,  all  enmity  shall  be  torn  out  of  my 
heart,  as  this  thread  is  out  of  my  garment;  but  if 
we  both  outlive  the  coming  battles,  we  will  take  it 
up  again,  as  is  proper."  After  these  words  he 
turned  round,  and  descended  into  the  cellar,  there 
to  attend  to  important  business.  The  large  tuns 
lay  there  in  the  arched  vaults  in  due  order;  and  not 
one  of  them  gave  back  a  hollow  sound  when  struck. 
Rudimann  had  ordered  some  masons,  and  now  had 
a  small  ante-chamber,  which  generally  served  for 
the  keeping  of  fruit  and  vegetables,  arranged  as  if 
it  were  the  cloister-cellar.  Two  small  casks  and 
one  larger  one  were  put  there.  "An  enemy  who 
finds  nothing  becomes  suspicious,"  said  the  cellarer 
to  himself,  "and  if  the  Sipplinger  choice  wine 
which  I  sacrifice  only  does  its  duty,  many  a 
Hun  will  find  some  difficulty  in  continuing  his 
journey."  I 

The  masons  had  already  got  ready  the  square 
stones  to  wall  up  the  inner  cellar  door,  when  Rudi- 
mann once  more  stepped  in.    Walking  up  to  an  old 

258 


Ekkehard 

rotten-looking  tun,  he  tapped  it,  and  filling  a  small 
jug,  emptied  this  with  a  most  melancholy  expres- 
sion; and  then,  folding  his  hands  as  in  prayer,  he 
said:  "May  God  protect  thee,  noble  red  wine  of 
Meersburg!"  A  solitary  tear  stood  glistening  in 
his  eye. 

In  all  parts  of  the  monastery  busy  hands  were 
preparing  for  the  coming  danger.  In  the  armory 
the  harness  and  arms  were  being  divided.  Unfor- 
tunately there  were  many  heads  and  but  few  hel- 
mets. Then  the  leather-work  was  in  a  somewhat 
dilapidated  condition,  and  stood  in  great  need  of 
repair. 

In  the  treasury,  the  Abbot  was  superintending 
the  packing  up  of  precious  articles  and  holy  relics. 
Many  heavy  boxes  were  thus  filled.  The  golden 
cross  with  the  holy  blood ;  the  white  marble  vase, 
which  had  once  held  the  wine  at  the  marriage  of 
Cana;  coffins  with  the  remains  of  martyrs;  the 
Abbot's  stafif,  and  the  golden  pixes — all  were  care- 
fully packed  up  and  taken  over  to  the  ships. 
Some  were  also  carrying  off  the  heavy  green 
emerald,  weighing  fully  twenty-eight  pounds. 

"The  emerald  you  may  leave  behind,"  said  the 
Abbot. 

"The  parting  gift  of  the  great  Emperor 
Charles!  The  rarest  jewel  of  the  cathedral,  the 
like  of  which  the  bowels  of  the  earth  do  not  con- 
tain!" asked  the  serving  brother. 

259 


Ekkehard  I 

i 

"I  know  a  glass-maker  in  Venetia  who  can  easily 
make  another  if  the  Huns  should  carry  this  one 
away,"  carelessly  replied  the  Abbot.  So  they  put 
the  jewel  back  into  the  cupboard. 

Before  evening  had  set  in  everything  was  ready 
for  the  departure.  Then  the  Abbot  commanded 
the  brothers  to  assemble  in  the  courtyard.  All  ap- 
peared with  the  exception  of  one.  , 

''Where  is  Heribald?"  asked  he. 

Heribald  was  a  pious  monk  who  had  many  a 
time  cheered  up  a  desponding  brother.  In  his  in- 
fancy, his  nurse  had  let  him  fall  on  the  stone  floor, 
and  frorh  that  time  he  had  had  a  weakness  of  the 
brain,  a  certain  softness — though  he  possessed  an 
excellent  heart,  and  took  as  much  delight  in  God's 
beautiful  world  as  any  stronger-minded  being. 

So  they  went  to  look  for  Heribald,  and  found 
him  up  in  his  cell.  The  yellow-gray  cloister-cat 
seemed  to  have  ofifended  him  in  some  way,  for  he 
had  fastened  the  cord  which  generally  served  him 
as  a  girdle  round  its  body,  and  had  hung  it  up  on 
a  nail  in  the  ceiling.  The  poor  old  animal  hung 
thus  suspended  in  the  air,  whining  and  mewing 
pitifully,  while  Heribald  rocked  it  gently  to  and 
fro,  talking  Latin  to  it.  . 

"Come  on,  Heribald!"  called  out  his  compan- 
ions.   "We  must  leave  the  island." 

"Let  him  fly  who  will,"  replied  the  idiot. 
"Heribald  won't  go  away." 

260 


Ekkehard 

"Be  good,  Heribald,  and  follow  us;  the  Abbot 
commands  you." 

Then  Heribald  pulled  off  his  shoe,  and  held  it 
out  to  the  brothers.  "The  shoe  was  already  torn 
last  year,"  said  he.  "Then  I  went  to  the  keeper 
of  the  stores  and  said :  'Give  me  my  yearly  portion 
of  leather,  that  I  may  make  myself  a  new  pair  of 
shoes.'  But  the  camerarius  replied:  'If  thou  didst 
not  tread  thy  shoes  all  awry,  then  they  would  not 
tear,'  and  he  refused  the  leather.  Upon  this,  I 
complained  to  the  Abbot,  but  he  said:  'A  fool,  as 
thou  art,  can  well  go  barefoot.'  Now  I  have  no 
decent  shoes  to  put  on;  and  I  will  not  go  among 
strangers  with  my  torn  shoes." 

Such  sound  reasons  could  not  well  be  argued 
away;  so  the  brothers  seized  him,  intending  to 
carry  him  off  by  force;  but  no  sooner  had  they 
reached  the  passage  than  Heribald  broke  away 
from  them,  and  rushed  as  quick  as  lightning  to 
the  church,  and  from  thence  up  the  stairs  that  led 
to  the  belfry.  When  he  had  reached  the  very  top, 
he  drew  up  the  small  wooden  ladder  after  him,  so 
that  there  was  no  possibility  of  getting  at  him. 

They  reported  to  the  Abbot  how  matters  stood. 
"Well,  then  we  must  leave  him  behind,"  said  he. 
"Children  and  fools  are  protected  by  a  guardian 
angel  of  their  own." 

Two  large  barges  lay  waiting  at  the  shore  to  re- 
ceive the  fugitives.    They  were  strong,  w^ell-built 

261 


Ekkehard 

ships,  furnished  with  oars  and  masts.     In  some 

smaller  boats,  the  serving  people,  and  all  others 
who  lived  on  the  Reichenau,  sailed  with  all  their 
chattels  and  belongings.  The  whole  looked  a 
strange  medley. 

One  bark,  filled  by  the  maid-servants,  and  com- 
manded by  Kerhildis,  the  upper  maid,  had  al- 
ready steered  off,  without  its  crew  knowing  what 
place  they  were  bound  for;  but  fear,  this  time,  was 
stronger  than  their  curiosity  to  see  the  mustaches 
of  strange  warriors. 

And  now  the  brotherhood  was  approaching  the 
shore,  presenting  a  strange  sight.  The  greater  part 
were  armed,  some  chanting  the  litany,  others  carry- 
ing the  coffin  of  St.  Mark,  the  Abbot  with  Ekke- 
hard walking  at  the  head  of  the  cloister-pupils. 
They  all  cast  back  a  sorrowful  look  toward  the 
home  where  they  had  spent  so  many  years;  and 
then  they  went  on  board. 

No  sooner  had  they  faithfully  started,  than  all 
the  bells  began  to  ring  merrily.  The  weak-minded 
Heribald  was  ringing  a  farewell  greeting  to  them. 
Afterward,  he  appeared  on  the  top  of  the  cathedral 
tower,  and  called  down  with  a  powerful  voice 
**dominus  vobiscum"  and  here  and  there,  one  of 
the  monks  responded  in  the  accustomed  way:  '^^et 
cum  spiritu  tuo*'  1 

A  keen  breeze  was  curling  the  waves  of  the  lake, 
which  had  only  lately  thawed.     Numerous  large 

262 


Ekkehard 

ice-blocks  were  still  floating  about,  so  that  the  ships 
often  had  great  difficulty  in  proceeding. 

The  monks  who  were  taking  care  of  St.  Mark's 
coffin  anxiously  cowered  down  when  the  waves 
sometimes  entered  their  boat;  but  bold  and  erect 
Abbot  Wazmann's  tall  figure  towered  above  the 
rest,  his  habit  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

''The  Lord  is  at  our  head,"  said  he,  ''as  He  was 
in  the  fiery  pillar  before  the  people  of  Israel.  He 
is  with  us  in  our  flight,  and  He  will  be  with  us  in 
the  hour  of  our  happy  return.'* 

On  a  clear  moonlight  night  the  monks  of  the 
Reichenau  ascended  the  Hohentwiel,  where  they 
found  everything  prepared  for  their  reception.  In 
the  castle  chapel  they  deposited  the  coffin  of  their 
saint,  six  of  the  brothers  being  ordered  to  stay  be- 
side it,  watching  and  praying. 

The  courtyard,  on  the  next  morning,  was  trans- 
formed into  a  bustling  bivouac.  Some  hundred 
armed  vassals  were  already  assembled,  and  from 
the  Reichenau  ninety  more  combatants  were  added 
to  their  numbers.  They  were  all  eagerly  prepar- 
ing for  the  coming  contest.  Already  before  sun- 
rise the  hammering  of  the  blacksmiths  awakened 
the  sleepers.  Arrows  and  lances  were  being  made. 
Near  the  fountain  in  the  yard  stood  the  big  grind- 
ing-stone,  on  which  the  rusty  blades  were  sharp- 
ened. The  old  basketmaker  of  Weiterdingen  had 
also  been  fetched  up,  and  was  sitting  with  his  boys 

263 


Ekkehard 

under  the  great  linden  tree,  covering  the  long 
boards  destined  for  shields  with  a  strong  platting 
of  willow  branches.  Over  this  a  tanned  skin  was 
fastened,  and  the  shield  was  complete.  Others 
were  seated  round  a  merry  fire,  melting  lead,  to 
make  sharp  pointed  missiles  for  the  slings.  Blud- 
geons and  heavy  clubs  of  ash  were  also  being  hard- 
ened in  the  flames.  "If  one  of  these  knocks  at  the 
skull  of  a  heathen,"  said  Rudimann,  swinging  a 
heavy  club  over  his  head,  "it  is  sure  to  be  ad- 
mitted." 

All  vassals  who  had  served  before  were  put 
under  the  command  of  Simon  Bardo,  the  Greek 
field  marshal.  "A  man  who  wants  to  pass  his  old 
days  peaceably  must  come  to  Germany,"  he  had 
jestingly  said  to  the  Duchess ;  but  in  reality  the  clat- 
ter of  arms  strengthened  his  mind  like  old  Rhine 
wine.  With  an  untiring  zeal  he  drilled  the  inex- 
perienced in  the  use  of  arms;  and  every  day  for 
many  an  hour  the  stone  flags  of  the  courtyard  re- 
sounded with  the  heavy,  regular  tramp  of  the 
monks,  who,  in  closed  ranks,  were  being  taught 
the  art  of  a  spear  attack.  "With  you,  one  could 
verily  knock  down  walls,  when  once  your  blood 
is  up,"  said  the  old  soldier  with  an  approving  nod. 

Those  of  the  younger  men  who  possessed  a  good 
eye  and  flexible  sinews  were  enlisted  among  the 
archers.  These  also  practised  industriously  shoot- 
ing at  a  target.    Once,  a  loud  cry  of  delight  was 

264 


Ekkehard 

heard  in  the  courtyard,  where  the  jolly  fellows 
had  manufactured  a  straw  figure,  wearing  a  crown 
of  owl's  feathers,  and  holding  a  six-corded  whip  in 
its  hand.  A  small  piece  of  red  cloth  in  the  shape 
of  a  heart,  fastened  in  front,  was  the  mark. 

"Attila,  the  King  of  the  Huns !"  cried  the  arch- 
ers, "who  can  hit  him  right  in  the  heart?" 

"Boasting  is  easy  enough,"  said  Dame  Hadwig, 
who  was  looking  down  from  her  balcony;  "but 
though  on  an  evil  bridal  night,  death  felled  him, 
his  spirit  is  still  living  in  the  world;  and  I  fear, 
that  even  those  coming  after  us  will  yet  have 
trouble  enough  to  banish  his  dread  memory." 

"If  they  could  only  shoot  away  at  him  as  well  as 
they  do  now  down  there,"  said  Praxedis,  when  a 
triumphant  shout  was  heard.  The  straw  figure 
tottered  and  fell ;  an  arrow  having  hit  the  heart. 

Ekkehard  came  up  to  the  hall.  He  had  exer- 
cised with  the  others,  and  his  face  glowed  with 
the  unwonted  exertion,  while  the  helmet  had  left  a 
red  stripe  on  his  forehead.  In  the  excitement  of 
the  moment,  he  had  forgotten  to  leave  his  lance 
outside  the  door. 

Dame  Hadwig  stood  looking  at  him  with  evi- 
dent pleasure.  He  was  no  longer  the  timid  teacher 
of  Latin.  Bowing  his  head  before  the  Duchess,  he 
said :  "Our  brothers  in  the  Lord,  from  the  Reiche- 
nau,  bid  me  tell  you  that  a  great  thirst  is  besetting 
their  ranks." 

265 

Vol.  3  (A)— 12 


Ekkehard 

Dame  Hadwig  laughed  merrily.  **Let  them  put 
a  tun  of  cool  beer  in  the  courtyard.  Until  the 
Huns  are  all  driven  out  of  the  country  our  cellarer 
is  not  to  complain  about  the  emptiness  of  his  tuns." 
Then,  pointing  at  the  bustling  life  in  the  court- 
yard, she  added:  "Life,  after  all,  brings  us  richer 
and  more  manifold  pictures  than  all  poets  can 
paint.  You  were  hardly  prepared  for  such  a 
change  in  things,  eh?" 

But  Ekkehard  would  allow  nothing  approaching 
a  slight  to  be  leveled  at  his  dear  Virgilius. 

"Allow  me,"  said  he,  leaning  on  his  spear;  "all 
that  we  now  see  you  will  find  word  for  word  in 
the  ^neid,  as  if  there  was  to  be  nothing  new  under 
the  sun.  Surely  you  would  fancy  that  Virgil  stood 
here  on  this  balcony,  looking  down  on  yonder  busy 
crowd,  when  he  sang,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war 
in  Latium:  j 

"Yonder   the   shields    for   the    head    are   with    willowy 

branches  surrounded : 
Others  the  armor  of  ore  are  to  shining  polish  restoring ; 
There  the  protecting  greaves  of  glittering  silver  are 

forged. 
Sickle  and  plow  for  the  time  are  dishonored  and  wholly 

forgotten, 
All  are  busily  mending  the  rusty  swords  of  their  fathers ; 
Bugles  are  heard  in  the  land,  and  the  watchword  to  all 

is  now  given."  i 

266  ! 


Ekkehard 

"Yes,  that  really  fits  the  situation  wonderfully 
well,"  said  Dame  Hadwig,  "but  can  you  also 
predict  the  issue  of  the  coming  battles  from  your 
epic?"  she  was  going  to  ask;  but  in  times  of  such 
busy  confusion,  'tis  somewhat  difficult  to  speak 
about  poetry.  At  that  moment  the  steward  came 
in,  to  report  that  all  the  meat  was  eaten  up,  and  to 
ask  whether  he  might  kill  two  more  oxen. 

After  a  few  days  Simon  Bardo's  men  were  so 
well  drilled  that  he  could  let  them  pass  in  review 
before  the  Duchess ;  and  it  was  high  time,  for  they 
had  already  been  disturbed  in  their  rest  the  pre- 
vious night.  A  bright  red  light  was  illuminating 
the  sky,  far  over  the  lake.  Like  a  fiery  cloud,  the 
dread  sign  hung  there  for  several  hours,  the  con- 
flagration being  probably  far  off  in  Helvetia,  the 
Switzerland  of  to-day.  The  monks  began  to  dis- 
pute about  it.  Some  said  that  it  was  a  heavenly 
apparition,  a  fiery  star,  sent  as  a  warning  unto 
all  Christendom.  Others  said  that  there  must  be 
a  great  conflagration  in  the  Rhine  valley;  and 
one  brother,  gifted  with  a  particularly  fine  nose, 
even  pretended  to  perceive  the  smell  of  burning. 
It  was  long  past  midnight  when  the  red  light 
died  out. 

On  the  southern  declivity  of  the  mountain,  there 
was  a  moderate  sized  grove,  where  the  first  spring- 
flowers  were  blooming  already,  while  the  snow  was 
still  lying  in  the  nooks  and  crevices  of  the  valleys. 

267 


Ekkehard 

This  was  to  be  the  place  for  the  mustering.  Dame 
Hadwig  was  seated  on  her  noble  palfrey,  sur-, 
rounded  by  a  small  troop  of  well-armed  knights, 
who  had  also  joined  the  party  on  the  Hohentwiel : 
the  Barons  of  Randegg,  of  Hoewen,  and  the  gaunt 
Friedinger.  The  Abbot  of  Reichenau  was  like- 
wise proudly  sitting  on  his  ambling  nag — a  well- 
mounted  champion  of  the  Lord.  Master  Spazzo, 
the  chamberlain,  was  taking  great  pains  to  equal 
him  with  regard  to  carriage  and  movements,  which 
were  both  highly  aristocratic  and  knightly.  Ekke- 
hard, who  was  likewise  to  have  accompanied  the 
Duchess  on  horseback,  had  declined  the  honor, 
that  he  might  not  raise  envy  in  the  hearts  of  the 
other  monks.  I 

And  now  the  outer  castle-gate  slowly  opened  on 
its  heavy  hinges,  and  out  strode  the  archers,  who- 
with  the  cross-bow  men  headed  the  march.  Amidst 
the  merry  sounds  of  music,  they  walked  on  in 
closed  ranks,  Audifax,  with  a  very  serious  expres- 
sion, being  among  the  horn-blowers,  in  the  capacity 
of  bag-piper.  Suddenly,  Simon  Bardo  ordered  a 
signal  to  be  given,  at  the  sound  of  which  the  ranks 
swiftly  deployed,  skirmishing  about  like  a  swarm 
of  wild  bees.  They  had  soon  occupied  every  bush 
and  hedge  in  the  neighborhood. 

Then  there  came  the  troop  of  monks,  firmly 
treading  the  ground,  with  helmets  and  armor 
under  their  habits,  the  shields  hanging  on  their 

268 


Ekkehard 

backs.  With  couched  lances,  they  were  a  redout- 
able  force.  Their  flag  floated  merrily,  high  in  the 
air,  a  red  cross  in  a  white  field.  They  marched  on 
as  regularly  as  if  they  had  been  soldiers  these  many 
years;  for  with  the  strong-minded  mental  disci- 
pline is  an  excellent  preparation  for  the  warrior's 
life.  Only  one  in  the  left  wing  was  not  able  to 
keep  pace  with  the  others,  his  lance  protruding  be- 
yond the  straight  line  preserved  by  his  companions. 
''It  is  not  his  fault,"  said  Abbot  Wazmann  to  the 
Duchess.  "He  copied  a  whole  mass-book  in  the 
space  of  six  weeks,  so  that  he  has  got  the  writing- 
cramp  in  his  hand." 

Ekkehard  was  marching  in  the  right  wing,  and 
when  his  troop  passed  the  Duchess  he  caught  a 
look  from  the  radiant  eyes,  which  could  scarcely 
have  been  intended  for  the  whole  corps. 

Divided  into  three  bodies,  then  came  the  vassals 
and  bondmen.  Their  musical  instruments  were 
huge  bulls'  Horns,  emitting  strange,  uncouth 
sounds,  and  many  a  singular  looking  weapon  was 
seen  that  day  which  had  already  been  used  under 
the  great  Emperor  Charles.  Some  of  them  were 
merely  armed  with  a  heavy  bludgeon. 

Master  Spazzo's  sharp  eyes  meanwhile  looked 
down  into  the  valley.  "  'Tis  well  that  we  are  all 
together,  and  well  prepared;  for  I  verily  believe 
that  we  shall  soon  get  some  work  to  do,"  said  he, 
pointing  downward  in  the  direction  where  the 

269 


Ekkehard 

i 

roofs  of  Hilzingen  were  peeping  out  from  the 
wooded  dells.  A  dark  line  was  seen  approaching. 
Then  Simon  Bardo  ordered  his  troops  to  stop, 
and  after  casting  a  searching  look  in  that  direction, 
said:  "These  are  not  Huns,  for  they  are  not  on 
horseback."  Still,  taking  all  needful  precaution, 
he  commanded  his  archers  to  occupy  the  foot  of 
the  hill.  I 

As  the  ranks  of  the  strangers  approached,  the 
garb  of  St.  Benedict  became  visible.  A  golden 
cross,  in  lieu  of  a  standard,  was  towering  above  the 
lances,  and  the  ^'Kyrie  eleison/'  was  now  heard 
quite  plainly.  "My  brothers!"  exclaimed  Ekke- 
hard. Then  the  ranks  of  the  Reichenau  monks 
broke  up,  and  running  down  the  hill  with  shouts 
of  delight,  they  soon  met,  and  were  joyfully  em- 
bracing each  other.  To  renew  friendship  in  the 
hour  of  danger  makes  the  heart  doubly  glad. 
Arm  in  arm  with  the  monks  of  Reichenau,  the 
strange  guests  now  ascended  the  hill,  headed  by 
their  abbot,  Cralo.  On  a  heavy  cart  in  the  rear- 
guard they  were  transporting  the  blind  Thieto. 

"May  God  bless  you,  most  noble  cousin,"  said 
the  Abbot,  bowing  his  head  before  the  Duchess. 
"Who  would  have  thought  half  a  year  ago  tha 
we  should  return  your  call  with  the  whole  of  the' 
brotherhood?  But  the  God  of  Israel  says :  'Let  my 
people  leave  their  home,  so  that  they  may  remain 
faithful  unto  me.*  "  I 

270 


Ekkehard 

Dame  Hadwig  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  with 
visible  emotion.  "Yes,  these  are  times  of  trial," 
said  she.    "You  are  welcome!"  ' 

Thus  fortified  by  the  new-comers,  the  troop  be- 
took themselves  back  again,  behind  the  protecting 
walls  of  the  Hohentwiel.  Praxedis  had  descended 
into  the  courtyard.  There  she  stood  under  the 
linden  tree,  gazing  at  the  men  as  they  came  in. 
Those  of  St.  Gall  had  all  arrived,  yet  her  eyes 
were  still  riveted  on  the  door,  as  if  there  were  still 
some  one  missing.  He,  however,  whom  her  eyes 
sought,  was  not  among  the  last  entering  guests 
either. 

In  the  castle,  they  wxre  busying  themselves  to 
make  room  for  the  new-comers.  For  the  number 
of  men  now  assembled  the  space  was  but  scanty. 
In  the  round,  principal  tower,  there  was  an  airy 
hall,  in  which  they  heaped  up  straw,  for  a  tem- 
porary night's  quarter.  "If  things  go  on  in  this 
way,"  grumbled  the  steward,  whose  head  was 
nearly  turned  with  all  the  demands  that  were  being 
made  on  him,  "we  shall  soon  have  the  whole  priest- 
hood of  Europe  up  here." 

Kitchen  and  cellar  gave  all  they  could.  In  the 
hall  downstairs,  monks  and  warriors  were  sitting, 
noisily  taking  their  meal.  Dame  Hadwig  had  in- 
vited the  two  abbots,  as  well  as  those  of  noble 
birth  among  her  guests,  into  her  own  reception 
room.    There  was  a  great  deal  to  be  discussed,  and 

271 


Ekkehard 

the  questions  and  answers,  quickly  given  and  often 
crossing  each  other,  made  a  strange  confusion  of 
voices.  ' 

As  soon  as  an  opportunity  offered,  Abbot  Cralo 
told  them  about  the  fate  of  his  monastery. 

"This  time,"  he  began,  "the  danger  came  upon 
us  almost  unawares.  Scarcely  had  one  spoken  of 
the  Huns,  when  the  ground  was  already  resound- 
ing with  the  tramp  of  their  horses'  hoofs.  'Sharp,' 
was  the  word.  The  pupils  of  the  cloister-school  I 
hastily  sent  over  to  the  fortress  of  Wasserburg. 
Aristotle  and  Cicero  will  probably  get  somewhat 
dusty;  the  boys  will  be  catching  fish  in  the  Boden- 
see,  instead  of  studying  the  classics — if  they  do  not 
get  more  serious  work  to  do.  The  old  teachers  fled 
with  them  over  the  water,  in  good  time.  We 
others  had  made  ourselves  a  sort  of  stronghold,  as 
a  refuge.  Where  the  Sitter  brook  runs  through 
the  narrow,  fir-grown  valley,  we  found  an  excel- 
lent hiding-place,  which  we  thought  no  heathenish 
bloodhound  would  ever  sniff  out.  There  we  built 
ourselves  a  strong  house,  with  towers  and  walls; 
and  we  consecrated  it  to  the  holy  Trinity,  who  I 
trust  will  protect  it. 

"We  had  scarcely  finished  it,  when  the  mes- 
sengers from  the  lake  came,  crying:  'Fly,  the  Huns 
are  coming!'  Then  there  came  others  from  the 
Rhine  valley,  and  'Fly!'  was  again  the  word.  The 
sky  was  already  dyed  red  from  the  work  of  incen- 

2.y2. 


Ekkehard 

diaries  and  camp-fires ;  the  air  was  filled  with  the 
shrieks  of  people  flying  and  the  creaking  of  retreat- 
ing cart-wheels.  So  we  also  set  out.  Gold  and 
jewels,  St.  Callus's  and  St.  Othmar's  coffins,  in  fact 
all  our  treasures,  were  first  safely  hidden,  the  books 
being  carried  off  to  the  Wasserburg  by  the  boys. 
So  we  left  the  monastery,  not  thinking  much  about 
eating  and  drinking,  some  scanty  provisions  only 
having  been  brought  to  our  retreat  in  the  wood 
beforehand.  Thither  we  now  went  in  great  haste. 
Only  on  the  road  the  brothers  perceived  that  we 
had  left  the  blind  Thieto  behind  in  his  cell;  but 
nobody  ventured  to  return  for  him,  as  the  ground 
was,  so  to  say,  already  burning  under  our  feet. 
Thus  we  remained  for  several  days  quietly  hidden 
in  our  fir-wood,  often  jumping  up  at  night,  to  seize 
our  arms,  fancying  the  enemy  were  outside ;  but  it 
was  only  the  current  of  the  Sitter,  or  the  rustling 
of  the  wind  in  the  tree-tops.  One  evening,  how- 
ever, a  loud  voice  demanded  admittance,  and  in 
came  Burkhard,  the  cloister  pupil,  pale  and  worn 
out.  Out  of  friendship  for  Romeias,  the  cloister- 
watchman,  he  had  remained  behind,  without  our 
noticing  it.  He  was  the  bearer  of  evil  tidings. 
The  terror  of  what  he  had  seen  had  turned  some 
of  the  hairs  on  his  young  head  quite  gray."  Abbot 
Cralo's  voice  here  began  to  tremble.  He  stopped 
a  moment  to  take  a  draft  of  wine.  "The  Lord  be 
merciful  to  all  departed  Christian  souls,"  said  he 

273 


Ekkehard 

with  emotion.    *'His  blessings  be  with  them,  and 
may  He  let  them  rest  in  peace." 

"Amen,"  said  the  others.  ' 

*'Of  whom  are  you  thinking?"  asked  the  Duch- 
ess. Praxedis  had  left  her  place  and  gone  behind 
her  mistress's  chair,  where  she  stood  breathlessly 
watching  Abbot  Cralo's  lips. 

"It  is  only  when  a  man  is  dead  and  gone,"  con- 
tinued the  Abbot,  taking  up  the  thread  of  his  tale 
again,  "that  the  survivors  appreciate  his  value. 
Romeias,  the  best  of  all  watchmen,  did  not  leave 
the  monastery  with  us.  *I  will  keep  to  my  post  to 
the  last,'  said  he.  He  then  barred  and  locked  all 
the  gates,  hid  all  that  was  valuable,  and  went  his 
round  on  the  walls  accompanied  by  Burkhard,  the 
cloister-pupil.  The  remaining  time  he  kept  watch 
on  the  tower,  his  arms  by  his  side.  Soon  after  we 
had  left,  a  large  body  of  Huns  on  horseback,  care- 
fully prying  about,  approached  the  walls.  Ro- 
meias gave  the  ordinary  bugle  sounds,  and  then 
quickly  running  to  the  other  end  of  the  courtyard, 
blew  the  horn  there  again,  as  if  the  monastery  were 
still  occupied,  and  well  prepared.  'Now  the  time 
has  come  for  us  to  depart  also,'  said  he  to  the  pupil. 
He  had  fastened  an  old  withered  nosegay  to  his 
helmet,  Burkhard  told  us;  and  thus  the  two  went 
to  the  blind  Thieto,  who,  being  loth  to  leave  his 
accustomed  corner,  was  placed  on  two  spears, 
and  thus  carried  away.    Letting  themselves  out 

274 


Ekkehard 

by  a  secret  little  gate,  they  fled  up  the  Schwarza 
valley. 

"Already  the  Huns  had  sprung  from  their 
horses,  and  had  begun  to  climb  the  walls,  and  when 
they  saw  that  nothing  stirred,  they  swarmed  in  like 
flies  on  a  drop  of  honey.  Romeias  meanwhile 
quietly  walked  on  with  his  hoary  burden.  *No- 
body  shall  say  of  the  cloister-watchman/  said  he, 
'that  he  quickened  his  step  to  please  a  pack  of 
heathenish  bloodhounds.'  Thus  he  tried  to  encour- 
age his  young  friend ;  but  only  too  soon  the  Huns 
were  on  their  track.  Wild  cries  came  up  the  val- 
ley, and  soon  after  the  first  arrows  whizzed 
through  the  air.  So  they  reached  Wiborad's  rock; 
but  here,  even  Romeias  was  surprised;  for,  as  if 
nothing  uncommon  had  happened,  Wiborad's  hol- 
low psalm-singing  was  heard  as  usual.  In  a 
heavenly  vision,  her  speedy  suffering  and  death 
had  been  revealed  to  her,  and  even  the  pious  Wal- 
dramm  could  not  persuade  her  to  fly.  'My  cell  is 
the  battle-field  on  which  I  have  fought  against  the 
old  enemy  of  mankind,  and,  like  a  true  champion 
of  the  Lord,  I  will  defend  it  to  the  last  breath,* 
said  she;  and  so  she  remained  quite  alone  in  that 
desolate  spot,  when  all  others  left  it.  As  the  clois- 
ter's refuge  in  the  fir- wood  was  too  far  to  be 
reached,  Romeias  picked  out  a  remote  little  hut, 
and  in  it  carefully  deposited  the  blind  Thieto, 
letting  him  in  by  the  roof.    Before  leaving  him,  he 

275 


Ekkehard 

kissed  the  old  man,  and  then  told  the  cloister-pupil 
to  fly,  and  save  himself. 

"  *You  see,  something  may  happen  to  me,'  he 
said,  'and  so  you  must  tell  those  in  the  refuge  to 
look  after  the  blind  one.'  Burkhard  in  vain  be- 
sought him  to  fly  likewise,  quoting  Nisus  and 
Euryalus,  w^ho  had  also  fled  into  the  v^oods  before 
the  greater  numbers  of  the  Volscian  horsemen.  *I 
should  have  to  run  too  fast,'  replied  Romeias,  'and 
that  would  make  me  too  warm,  and  give  me  pains 
in  the  chest.  Besides  I  should  like  to  speak  a  word 
or  two  with  the  children  of  the  Devil.' 

''He  then  went  up  to  Wiborad's  cell,  and,  knock- 
ing at  the  shutter,  called  out:  'Give  me  thy  hand, 
old  dragon,  we  will  make  peace  now,'  upon  which 
Wiborad  stretched  out  her  withered  right  hand. 
Finally,  Romeias  blocked  up  the  narrow  passage 
of  the  Schwarza  with  some  huge  stones,  and  then 
taking  his  shield  from  his  back,  and  holding  his 
shafts  ready,  he  seized  his  big  bugle-horn  to  blow 
in  it  once  more.  With  flying  hair  he  thus  stood 
behind  his  wall,  expecting  the  enemy.  At  first  the 
sounds  were  fierce  and  warlike,  but  by  degrees  they 
became  softer  and  sweeter,  until  an  arrow,  flying 
right  into  the  opening,  produced  a  sharp  disso- 
nance. The  next  moment,  a  whole  shower  of 
arrows  covered  him  and  stuck  fast  in  his  shield; 
but  he  shook  them  off  like  rain-drops.  Here  and 
there  one  of  the  Huns  climbed  up  the  rocks  to 

276  I 


Ekkehard 

get  at  him,  but  Romeias's  shafts  fetched  them  down 
quickly.  The  attack  became  fiercer  and  louder, 
but,  undaunted,  Wiborad  was  still  chanting  her 
psalm : 

"  'Destroy  them  in  Thy  anger,  O  Lord.  De- 
stroy them  that  they  exist  no  more,  so  that  the 
world  may  know  that  God  is  reigning  in  Israel, 
and  over  the  whole  earth.     Selah.' 

"So  far  Burkhard  had  witnessed  the  fighting; 
then  he  had  turned  and  fled.  On  hearing  his 
account  in  the  refuge,  we  were  all  very  much 
grieved,  and  sent  out  a  troop  that  very  night  to 
look  after  the  blind  Thieto.  Perfect  quiet  reigned 
on  the  hill  of  the  recluses  when  they  reached 
it.  The  moon  was  shining  on  the  bodies  of 
the  slain  Huns,  and  among  them  the  brothers 
found—" 

Here  the  recital  was  interrupted  by  loud  sobs. 
Praxedis  was  with  difficulty  supporting  herself  on 
the  back  of  the  Duchess's  chair,  and  was  weeping 
bitterly. 

" — There  they  found  the  dismembered  body  of 
Romeias,"  continued  the  Abbot.  "His  head  was 
hewn  off  and  carried  away  by  the  enemy.  He  lay 
on  his  shield,  the  faded  flowers  which  had  adorned 
his  helmet  tightly  clutched  in  his  hand.  May  God 
reward  him,  for  he  whose  life  was  lost  in  doing  his 
duty  is  surely  worthy  to  enter  heaven.  Wiborad's 
shutter  was  knocked  at  in  vain,  and  the  tiles  of  her 

^77 


Ekkehard  i 

:  ■  .  I  ■ 

roof  were  mostly  broken.  So  one  of  the  brothers 
climbed  up,  and,  on  looking  down,  beheld  the  re- 
cluse lying  in  her  blood  before  the  little  altar  of 
her  cell.  Three  wounds  were  visible  on  her  head, 
which  proved  that  the  Lord  had  deemed  her 
worthy  to  die  a  martyr's  death  by  the  hands  of  the 
heathen." 

Every  one  was  too  much  moved  to  speak.  Dame 
Hadwig  also  was  deeply  touched. 

"I  have  brought  you  the  veil  of  the  martyr," 
said  Sir  Cralo,  "consecrated  by  the  blood  of  her 
wounds.  You  might  hang  it  up  in  the  castle 
chapel.  Only  Thieto,  the  blind  one,  had  remained 
unharmed.  Undiscovered  by  the  enemy,  he  was 
found  soundly  sleeping  in  the  little  hut  by  the  rock. 
*I  have  been  dreaming  that  an  eternal  peace  had 
come  over  the  world,'  said  he  to  the  brothers  when 
they  awoke  him.  But  even  in  our  remote  little  val- 
ley we  were  not  to  have  peace  much  longer,  as  the 
Huns  found  their  way  to  us  also.  That  was  a 
swarming,  piping,  and  snorting  such  as  had  never 
been  heard  before  in  the  quiet  fir-wood.  Our  walls 
were  strong,  and  our  courage  likewise;  but  hungry 
people  soon  get  tired  of  being  besieged.  The  day 
before  yesterday  our  provisions  were  all  eaten  up; 
and  when  the  evening  came  we  saw  a  pillar  of 
smoke  rise  from  our  monastery.  So  we  broke 
through  the  enemy  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  the 
Lord  being  with  us  and  our  swords  helping  like- 

278 


Ekkehard 

wise.  And  so  we  have  come  to  you,"  with  a  bow 
toward  the  Duchess,  "homeless  and  orphaned,  like 
birds  whose  nest  has  been  struck  by  lightning,  and 
bringing  nothing  with  us  but  the  tidings  that  the 
Huns,  whom  may  the  Lord  destroy,  are  following 
on  our  heels." 

"The  sooner  they  come  the  better,"  defiantly 
said  the  Abbot  of  the  Reichenau,  raising  his 
goblet. 

"Here's  to  the  arms  of  God's  own  champions," 
said  the  Duchess,  ringing  her  glass  against  his. 

"And  revenge  for  the  death  of  the  brave  Ro- 
meias,"  added  Praxedis  in  a  low  voice  and  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  while  her  glass  touched  against 
the  gaunt  Friedinger's. 

It  was  getting  late.  Wild  songs  and  warlike 
cries  were  still  resounding  in  the  hall  on  the  first 
floor.  The  young  monk  who  had  come  to  the 
Reichenau  from  Mutina  in  Italy  had  again  struck 
up  his  sentinel's  song. 

The  opportunity  for  valiant  deeds  was  no  longer 
very  far  ofif. 


279 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER  XIII 

-  ■  ^-^  •■  ■      ■  '■ 

HERIBALD    AND    HIS    GUESTS  | 

I 

On  the  little  island  of  Reichenau  it  was  silent 
and  lonely  after  the  departure  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  cloister.  The  weak-minded  Heribald  was  lord 
and  master  of  the  whole  place,  and  was  much 
pleased  with  his  solitude.  For  hours  he  now  sat 
on  the  shore,  throwing  smooth  pebbles  over  the 
waves,  so  that  they  danced  merrily  along.  When 
they  sank  at  once  he  scolded  them  loudly. 

With  the  poultry  in  the  yard,  which  he  fed  very 
regularly,  he  also  talked  a  good  deal.  "If  you  are 
very  good,  and  the  brothers  do  not  return,"  he  once 
said,  "Heribald  will  preach  you  a  sermon."  In 
the  monastery  itself  he  also  found  plenty  of  amuse- 
ment, for  in  a  single  day  of  solitude  a  man  can 
hatch  a  good  many  useful  ideas.  The  keeper  of 
the  stores  had  angered  him  by  refusing  to  give  him 
the  necessary  shoe-leather;  so  Heribald  went  up  to 
his  cell,  smashed  to  pieces  his  large  stone  water- 
jug,  as  well  as  his  three  flower-pots,  and  then  open- 
ing the  straw  mattress  he  took  out  some  of  the 
straw,   and  put  in  the  broken  crockery  instead. 

280 


Ekkehard 

Having  achieved  this  feat,  he  lay  down  on  it,  and 
on  feeling  the  hard  and  sharp-edged  contents  toler- 
ably unpleasant  he  smiled  contentedly  and  betook 
himself  to  the  Abbot's  apartments. 

Toward  the  Abbot  he  also  bore  a  grudge,  as  he 
was  indebted  to  him  for  many  a  sound  whipping; 
but  in  his  rooms  everything  was  locked  up  and  in 
excellent  order.  So  nothing  was  left  to  him  but 
to  cut  off  one  of  the  legs  of  the  cushioned  easy- 
chair.  Having  done  this,  he  cunningly  placed  it 
back  in  its  old  place,  as  if  nothing  whatever  had 
happened.  "That  will  break  down  nicely  with 
him  when  he  comes  home  and  sits  comfortably  on 
it.  'Thou  shalt  castigate  the  flesh,'  says  St.  Bene- 
dict. But  Heribald  has  not  cut  off  the  chair's  foot. 
The  Huns  have  done  it." 

The  duty  of  prayer  and  psalm-singing  he  per- 
formed regularly,  as  the  rules  of  the  order  pre- 
scribed. The  seven  times  for  prayer  each  day  the 
solitary  man  strictly  adhered  to,  as  if  he  could  be 
punished  for  missing  them ;  and  he  descended  also 
every  night  into  the  cloister  chapel,  there  to  hold 
midnight  vigil. 

At  the  hour  when  his  clerical  brothers  were  ca- 
rousing in  the  hall  of  the  ducal  castle  with  the 
monks  of  St.  Gall,  Heribald  was  standing  in  the 
choir.  The  dark,  dreary  shadows  of  night  envel- 
oped the  aisle,  in  which  the  everlasting  lamp  was 
dimly  burning;  but  fearlessly  and  with  a  cleai 

281 


Ekkehard 

voice  Heribald  intoned  the  first  verse:  "O  Lord, 
deliver  me  from  evil" — and  then  sang  the  third 
psalm,  which  David  had  once  sung,  when  he  fled 
before  his  son  Absalom.  When  he  came  to  the 
place  where  the  antiphon  was  to  fall  in,  according 
to  custom,  he  stopped,  waiting  for  the  responses. 
Everything  remained  silent  and  still,  however. 
Heribald  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  and 
said:  "Ah,  I  forgot!  They  are  all  gone,  and  Heri- 
bald is  alone."  Then  he  wanted  to  sing  the  forty- 
ninth  psalm,  as  the  nightly  service  required,  when 
the  everlasting  lamp  went  out,  a  bat  having  extin- 
guished it  with  its  wings.  Outside,  storm  and  rain 
were  raging.  Heavy  drops  fell  on  the  roof  of  the 
church,  and  beat  against  the  windows.  Heribald 
began  to  shudder.  ' 

"Holy  Benedict,"  exclaimed  he,  "be  pleased  to 
see  that  it  is  not  Heribald's  fault  that  the  antiphon 
was  not  sung."  He  then  rose  and  walked  with 
careful  steps  through  the  dark  aisle.  A  shrill  wind 
whistled  through  a  little  window  of  the  crypt  under 
the  high  altar,  producing  a  howling  sound;  and  as 
Heribald  advanced,  a  draft  caught  his  garment. 
"Art  thou  come  back,  thou  hellish  tempter?"  said 
he;  "must  I  fight  thee  once  more?" 

Undauntedly  he  stepped  back  to  the  altar  and 
seized  a  wooden  crucifix,  which  the  Abbot  had  not 
had  taken  away.  "In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trin- 
ity, I  defy  thee,  Satanas.     Come  oa,   Heribald 

282 


Ekkehard 

awaits  thee!"  With  unabated  courage  he  thus 
stood  on  the  altar  steps;  but  though  the  wind 
continued  to  howl  dismally,  the  Devil  did  not 
appear. 

"He  still  remembers  the  last  time,"  smilingly- 
said  the  idiot.  About  a  year  ago  the  Evil  One  had 
appeared  to  him  in  the  shape  of  a  big  dog,  barking 
furiously  at  him;  but  Heribald  had  attacked  him 
with  a  pole,  and  had  aimed  his  blows  so  well  that 
the  pole  broke. 

Then  Heribald  screamed  out  a  number  of  choice 
invectives  in  the  direction  where  the  wind  was 
moaning;  and  when  even  after  this  nothing  came 
to  tempt  him,  he  replaced  the  crucifix  on  the  altar, 
bent  his  knees  before  it,  and  then  went  back  to  his 
cell,  murmuring  the  ^^Kyrie  eleison^  There  he 
slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  until  late  in  the  morning. 
The  sun  was  already  high  in  the  heavens  when 
Heribald  was  complacently  walking  up  and  down 
before  the  monastery.  Since  the  time  when  he  had 
enjoyed  an  occasional  holiday  at  school  he  had  sel- 
dom had  an  opportunity  of  resting.  "Idleness  is 
the  soul's  worst  enemy,"  St.  Benedict  had  said,  and 
in  consequence  strictly  ordered  his  disciples  to  fill 
up  the  time  which  was  not  claimed  by  devotional 
tasks  by  the  work  of  their  hands.  Heribald,  not 
knowing  any  art  or  handicraft,  had  been  employed 
in  cutting  wood  and  in  rendering  similar  useful 
but  tiring  services';  but  now  he  paced  up  and 

283 


Ekkehard 

down  with  crossed  arms  before  the  heaped-up 
logs,  looking  up  smilingly  at  one  of  the  cloister 
windows. 

"Why  don't  you  come  down,  Father  Rudimann, 
and  make  Heribald  cut  the  wood?  You,  who  used 
to  keep  such  excellent  watch  over  the  brothers,  and 
who  so  often  called  Heribald  a  useless  servant  of 
the  Lord,  when  he  looked  at  the  clouds,  instead  of 
handling  the  ax.  Why  don't  you  attend  to  your 
duty?" 

Not  even  an  echo  gave  answer  to  the  half-witted 
creature's  query;  so  he  drew  out  some  of  the  under 
logs,  thus  making  the  whole  pile  fall  noisily  down. 
"Tumble  down  if  you  like,"  continued  he  in  his 
soliloquy,  "Heribald  has  a  holiday,  and  is  not 
going  to  put  you  up  again.  The  Abbot  has 
run  away,  and  the  brothers  have  run  away  also; 
so  it  serves  them  right  if  everything  tumbles 
down." 

After  these  laudable  achievements  Heribald  di- 
rected his  steps  to  the  cloister  garden.  Another 
project  now  occupied  his  mind.  He  intended  to 
cut  a  few  delicate  lettuces  for  his  dinner,  and  to 
dress  them  a  good  deal  better  than  they  would  ever 
have  been  done  during  the  time  of  the  father  head- 
cook's  superintendence.  Temptingly  the  vision 
rose  before  him  how  he  would  not  spare  the  oil- 
jug,  and  would  pitilessly  cut  to  pieces  some  of  the 
biggest  onions,  when  a  cloud  of  dust  rose  on  the 

284  I 


Ekkehard 

opposite  sHore  and  the  forms  of  horses  and  riders 
became  visible. 

"Are  you  there  already?"  said  the  monk,  mak- 
ing the  sign  of  the  cross  and  then  mumbling  a 
hasty  prayer;  but  a  few  moments  later  his  face  had 
resumed  its  customary  smile  of  contentment. 

"Strange  wanderers  and  pilgrims  are  to  meet 
with  a  Christian  reception  at  the  gate  of  any  house 
of  the  Lord,"  murmured  he.   "I  will  receive  them." 

A  new  idea  now  crossed  his  brain,  and  again 
passing  his  hand  over  his  forehead  he  exclaimed : 
"Have  I  not  studied  the  history  of  the  ancients  in 
the  cloister  school,  and  learned  how  the  Roman 
Senators  received  the  invading  Gauls?  Dressed  in 
their  mantles,  the  ivory  sceptre  in  their  hands,  the 
venerable  men  sat  in  their  chairs,  motionless  like 
bronze  idols.  Ah,  well,  the  Latin  teacher  shall  not 
have  told  us  in  vain  that  this  was  a  most  worthy 
reception.    Heribald  can  do  the  same!" 

A  mild  imbecility  may  be  an  enviable  dower 
now  and  then  in  life.  That  which  appears  black 
to  others  seems  to  the  half-witted  blue  or  green, 
and  if  his  path  be  zigzag,  he  does  not  notice  the 
serpents  hidden  in  the  grass;  and  the  abyss  into 
which  the  wise  man  inevitably  falls  he  stumbles 
past,  without  even  perceiving  the  threatening 
danger. 

A  curule  chair  not  being  just  then  in  the  mon- 
astery, Heribald  pushed  a  huge  oak  stem  toward 

285 


Ekkehard 

the  gate  which  led  into  the  courtyard.  "For  what 
end  have  we  studied  secular  history,  if  we  can  not 
even  take  counsel  by  it?"  said  he,  seating  himself 
quietly  on  his  block,  in  expectation  of  that  which 
was  to  come. 

Opposite,  on  the  near  shore,  a  troop  of  horse- 
men had  stopped.  With  their  reins  slung  round 
their  arms,  and  their  arrows  ready  fastened  on  their 
bows,  they  had  gone  on  ahead  to  reconnoitre. 
When  no  ambuscade  came  out  from  behind  the 
willows  bordering  the  lake,  they  stopped  a  while 
to  rest  their  horses.  Then  the  arrows  were  put 
back  into  their  quivers,  the  crooked  sabres  taken 
between  the  teeth,  and,  pressing  the  spurs  into  the 
horses'  sides,  they  went  into  the  lake.  Quickly  the 
horses  crossed  the  blue  waves.  Now  the  foremost 
men  had  touched  the  land,  and,  jumping  from 
their  saddles,  shook  themselves  three  times,  like 
a  poodle  coming  out  of  its  bath,  and  then  with 
piercing,  triumphant  shouts  they  approached  the 
monastery. 

Like  an  image  of  stone,  Heribald  sat  at  his  post, 
gazing  undauntedly  at  the  strange  figures  before 
him.  As  yet  he  had  never  passed  a  sleepless  night 
musing  over  the  perfection  of  human  beauty,  but 
the  faces  which  now  met  his  view  struck  him  as 
being  so  very  ugly  that  he  could  not  suppress  a 
startled,  ^'Have  mercy  upon  us,  O  Lord  I"      ' 

Partly  bent,  the  strange  guests  were  sitting  in 

2S6 


Ekkehard 

their  saddles,  their  shrunk,  meagre  little  bodies 
dressed  in  beasts'  skins.  From  their  square-shaped 
skulls,  black,  shaggy  hair  hung  down  in  wild  dis- 
order; and  their  unshapely  yellow  faces  glistened 
as  if  they  had  been  anointed  with  tallow.  One  of 
the  foremost  had  enlarged  his  coarse-lipped  mouth 
considerably  by  a  voluntary  cut  at  the  corners,  and 
from  their  small,  deep-set  eyes  they  looked  out 
suspiciously  at  the  world. 

"To  make  a  Hun,  one  need  only  give  a  square 
shape  to  a  lump  of  clay,  put  on  a  smaller  lump  for 
a  nose,  and  drive  in  the  chin,"  Heribald  was  just 
thinking  when  they  stood  before  him.  He  did  not 
understand  their  hissing  language,  and  smiled 
complacently,  as  if  the  whole  gang  did  not  concern 
him  in  the  least.  For  a  while  they  kept  staring 
with  unbounded  astonishment  at  this  puzzling 
specimen  of  humanity — as  critics  are  apt  to  do  at 
a  new  poet,  of  whom  they  do  not  as  yet  know  in 
what  pigeon-hole  of  ready-made  judgments  they 
are  to  put  him.  At  last  one  of  them  beheld  the 
bald  place  on  Heribald's  pate,  and,  pointing  at  it 
with  his  bare  sabre — upon  which  the  others  raised 
a  hoarse  laugh — he  seized  his  bow  and  arrow  to 
aim  at  the  monk.  But  now  Heribald's  patience 
had  come  to  an  end,  and  a  feeling  of  AUemannic 
pride  coming  over  him  as  he  confronted  this  rab- 
ble, he  jumped  up,  calling  out:  "By  the  tonsure  of 
St.  Benedict,  the  crown  of  my  head  shall  not  be 

287 


Ekkehard 

mocked  at  by  any  heathenish  dogl"  He  had  seized 
the  reins  of  one  of  the  foremost  riders,  and,  snatch- 
ing away  his  sabre,  was  just  going  to  assume  an 
aggressive  attitude,  when,  quicker  than  lightning, 
one  of  the  Huns  threw  a  noose  over  his  head  and 
pulled  him  down.  Then  they  tied  his  hands  to  his 
back,  and  were  already  raising  their  death-bringing 
arms,  when  a  distant  tramping  was  heard,  like  the 
approach  of  a  mighty  army.  This  occurrence  for 
the  moment  completely  drew  off  their  attention 
from  the  idiot.  They  threw  him  like  a  sack 
against  his  oak-trunk,  and  quickly  galloped  back 
to  the  shore.  The  whole  body  of  the  Hunnic  le- 
gion had  now  arrived  on  the  opposite  shore.  The 
vanguard,  by  a  shrill  whistle,  gave  the  signal  that 
all  was  safe.  At  one  of  the  extremities  of  the 
island,  overgrown  with  reeds,  they  had  spied  a 
ford,  which  could  be  crossed  on  horseback  with  dry 
feet.  This  they  showed  to  their  friends,  who  now 
swarmed  over  like  wild  bees — many  hundred 
horsemen.  Their  united  forces  had  availed  noth- 
ing against  the  walls  of  Augsburg  and  the  Bishop's 
prayers ;  so,  divided  into  several  troops,  they  now 
ravaged  the  land.  Their  faces,  figures,  and  man- 
ner of  sitting  on  horseback  were  all  alike,  for  with 
uncultured  races  the  features  are  mostly  cast  in  one 
mold,  indicating  that  the  aim  of  the  individual 
lies  in  conforming  to  the  mass,  instead  of  contrast- 
ing with  it. 

288 


Ekkehard 

In  the  orchards  and  gardens,  where  the  monks 
used  to  recite  their  breviaries,  Hunnic  arms  now 
glistened  for  the  first  time.  In  serpentine  lines, 
their  armed  ranks  now  came  up  toward  the  monas- 
tery. A  wild  din  of  music,  a  mixture  of  cymbals 
and  violins  preceded  them;  but  the  sounds  were 
shrill  and  sharp,  as  the  ears  of  the  Huns  were 
large,  but  not  sensitive,  and  only  those  who,  from 
some  reason  or  other,  were  unfit  for  the  duties  of 
a  warrior,  became  musicians. 

High  over  their  heads  floated  their  standard, 
showing  a  green  cat  in  a  red  field,  around  which 
some  of  the  chieftains  were  gathered,  EUak's 
and  Hornebog's  tall  figures  towering  above  the 
rest. 

Ellak,  with  clear  features  and  a  straight  nose, 
very  unlike  that  of  a  Hun,  had  had  a  Circassian 
mother,  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  his  pale,  in- 
telligent face  with  penetrating  eyes.  He  repre- 
sented the  ruling  intellect  of  the  mass.  That  the 
old  world  must  be  plowed  afresh  with  fire  and 
sword,  and  that  it  was  better  to  be  the  plowman 
than  to  serve  as  manure  was  his  deep-rooted  con- 
viction. Hornebog,  lean  and  lank  of  figure,  wore 
his  long  black  hair  in  two  solitary  curls,  one  at 
each  side.  Above  these  rose  a  glittering  helmet, 
adorned  with  two  widely  spread  out  eagles'  wings, 
the  emblem  of  Hunnic  horsemanship.  To  him  the 
saddle  served  as  home,  tent,  and  palace.    He  shot 

289 

■   Vol.  3  (A)— 13 


Ekkehard 

flying  birds,  and  with  his  sabre  could  sever  the 
head  of  an  enemy  from  the  trunk  while  galloping 
past.  At  his  side  hung  the  six-corded  whip,  an 
ingenious  symbol  of  executive  power. 

On  the  backs  of  the  horses  belonging  to  the 
chieftains,  beautifully  woven  carpets,  as  well  as 
chasubles  were  hanging,  a  clear  proof  that  they 
had  already  paid  visits  to  other  monasteries.  The 
booty  was  transported  in  several  wagons,  and  a 
considerable  and  motley  crowd  of  followers  closed 
the  train. 

In  a  cart  drawn  by  mules,  among  copper  camp- 
kettles  and  other  kitchen  utensils,  an  old  wrinkled 
woman  was  sitting.  She  was  shading  her  eyes  with 
her  right  hand,  looking  toward  the  sun,  in  the  di- 
rection where  the  mountain  peaks  of  the  Hegau 
rose  into  the  air.  She  knew  them  well,  for  the  old 
hag  was  the  woman  of  the  wood.  Banished  by 
Ekkehard,  she  had  wandered  away  into  stranger 
lands,  vengeance  being  her  first  thought  when  she 
awoke  in  the  morning  and  her  last  before  she  fell 
asleep  in  the  evening.  Thus  she  came  as  far  as 
Augsburg.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  the 
wooden  temple  of  the  Suabian  Goddess  Zisa  had 
once  stood,  the  Huns'  camp-fires  were  burning, 
and  with  them  she  remained. 

On  a  prancing  black  steed,  by  the  side  of  the 
old  woman,  a  young  maiden  was  gaily  riding 
along.    Her  skirts  were  looped  up,  and  she  also 

290 


Ekkehard 

seemed  to  feel  herself  perfectly  at  home  in  the  sad- 
dle. Under  her  short  little  nose  there  was  a  lovely 
pair  of  red  lips;  her  dark  eyes  were  bright  and 
sparkling,  and  her  long  raven  hair  hung  down  in 
wavy  tresses,  interwoven  with  red  ribbons,  which 
merrily  floated  in  the  air,  like  the  streams  of  a 
ship.  Over  her  loose  bodice  bow  and  arrow  were 
hanging,  and  thus  she  managed  her  horse,  a  true 
Hunnic  Artemis.  This  was  Erica,  the  Flower-of- 
the-heath.  She  was  not  of  Hunnic  origin,  having 
been  picked  up  as  an  abandoned  child  by  some 
Hunnic  riders  on  the  Pannonian  heaths.  Thus  she 
had  accompanied  the  Huns  and  had  grown  up, 
hardly  knowing  how.  Those  whom  she  liked  she 
caressed,  and  those  who  displeased  her  she  bit  in 
the  arm.  Botund,  the  old  Hunnic  chieftain,  had 
loved  her,  and  was  killed  for  this  reason  by 
Irkund,  the  young  one.  But  when  Irkund  wanted 
to  enjoy  the  fruit  of  this  deed,  Zobolsus's  sharp 
lance  did  him  the  same  service  which  Irkund  had 
rendered  Botund,  without  the  latter  asking  for  it. 
Thus  Erica's  fate  had  been  varied.  New  ways, 
new  countries,  and  new  loves!  And  she  had  be- 
come part  and  parcel  of  her  troop.  She  was  its 
good  spirit  and  was  held  in  high  veneration. 

"As  long  as  the  Flower-of-the-heath  blooms  in 
our  ranks  we  shall  conquer  the  world,"  said  the 
Huns.    "Forward!" 

.   Meanwhile,  poor  Heribald  was  still  lying  in  his 

291 


Ekkehard  L^ 

fetters  at  the  monastery  gate.  His  meditations 
were  very  sad.  A  big  gadfly,  which  he  could  not 
drive  away  with  his  bound  hands,  was  buzzing 
round  his  head.  "Heribald  has  behaved  with  dig- 
nity," thought  he.  "Like  one  of  the  old  Romans, 
he  has  sat  at  the  gate  to  receive  the  enemy,  and 
now  he  is  lying  bound  on  the  stones,  and  the  gad- 
fly may  sit  on  his  nose  quite  unmolested.  That  is 
the  reward  of  dignified  behavior.  Heribald  will 
never  again  be  dignified.  Among  hedgehogs  dig- 
nity is  a  most  superfluous  thing." 

Like  a  mountain-torrent  when  the  flood-gate  has 
been  removed,  the  Hunnic  tide  now  streamed  into 
the  cloister-yard.  At  this  spectacle,  the  good  Heri- 
bald began  to  feel  really  uncomfortable.  "Oh, 
Camerarius,"  continued  he  in  his  meditation,  in- 
voking the  keeper  of  the  stores  under  his  Latin 
title,  "and  if  thou  wouldst  refuse  me  the  next  time 
even  the  shirt  and  habit,  besides  the  shoe-leather, 
then  would  I  fly  nevertheless,  a  naked  man!" 

Some  of  the  vanguard  then  reported  to  EUak 
in  what  state  they  had  found  the  solitary  monk. 
He  made  a  sign  for  them  to  bring  the  prisoner  up 
before  him,  upon  which  they  loosened  his  cords, 
set  him  on  his  feet,  and  indicated  the  direction  in 
which  he  was  to  ga  by  heavy  blows.  Slowly  the 
poor  wretch  advanced,  emitting  a  complaining 
grunt. 

An  unspeakably  satirical  smile  played  round  the 

292  ! 


Ekkehard 

Hunnic  chieftain's  lips,  when  the  idiot  at  last 
stood  before  him.  Negligently  dropping  his 
horse's  reins  on  its  neck,  he  turned  round.  "See 
what  a  representative  of  German  art  and  science 
looks  like,"  he  called  out  to  Erica. 

On  his  numerous  piratical  expeditions  Ellak 
had  acquired  a  scanty  knowledge  of  the  German 
language.  "Where  are  the  inhabitants  of  this 
island?"  asked  he  in  a  commanding  voice. 

Heribald  pointed  over  to  the  distant  Hegau. 

"Are  they  armed?" 

"The  servants  of  God  are  always  armed,  for  the 
Lord  is  their  shield  and  sword." 

"Well  said,"  laughed  the  Hun.  "Why  hast 
thou  remained  behind?" 

Heribald  became  embarrassed.  He  had  too 
much  pride  to  betray  the  true  reason — ^viz.,  his  torn 
shoes — so  he  replied:  "Heribald  is  curious,  and 
wanted  to  see  what  the  sons  of  the  Devil  were 
like." 

Ellak  translated  the  monk's  polite  speech  to  his 
companions,  who  struck  up  a  loud  guffaw. 

"You  need  not  laugh,"  cried  Heribald  angrily. 
"We  know  very  well  what  you  are!  Abbot  Waz- 
mann  has  told  us." 

"I  shall  have  thee  killed,"  said  Ellak  carelessly. 

"That  will  only  serve  me  right,"  returned  Heri- 
bald.   "Why  did  I  not  fly  with  the  others?" 

Ellak,  casting  a  searching  look  at  the  queer  fel- 

293 


Ekkehard 

low,  was  struck  with  another  idea.  He  made  a 
sign  to  the  standard-bearer,  who  approached, 
swinging  in  the  air  his  flag  with  the  green  cat, 
which  had  once  appeared  to  King  Attila  in  his 
youth.  In  a  dreamy  mood,  he  was  sitting  in  his 
uncle  Rugilas's  tent,  reflecting  whether  he  had  not 
better  become  a  Christian  and  serve  God  and 
learning,  when  the  cat  came  in.  Among  the  treas- 
ures of  Rugilas,  it  had  found  the  golden  imperial 
globe,  which  had  made  part  of  the  booty  at  Byzan- 
tium; this  it  held  in  its  paws  and  played  with  it, 
rolling  it  about  on  the  floor.  And  an  inward  voice 
said  to  Attila:  "Thou  shalt  not  become  a  monk, 
but  thou  shalt  play  with  the  globe  of  the  universe, 
as  the  cat  does  with  that  golden  bauble."  Then  he 
became  aware  that  Kutka,  the  god  of  the  Huns, 
had  appeared  to  him,  and  so  he  swung  his  sword  in 
the  direction  of  the  four  quarters  of  the  world,  let 
his  finger-nails  grow  long,  and  became  what  he  was 
destined  to  become,  Attila,  King  of  the  Huns,  the 
"Scourge  of  God!" 

"Kneel  down,  miserable  monk,"  cried  EUak, 
"and  worship  him  whom  thou  seest  in  this  flag!" 

But  Heribald  stood  immovable.  I 

"I  don't  know  him,"  said  he  with  a  hollow 
laugh. 

"  'Tis  the  God  of  the  Huns!"  angrily  cried  the 
chieftain.  "Down  on  thy  knees,  cowlbearer,  or" — 
he  pointed  to  his  sword.  | 

294  I 


Ekkehard 

Heribald  laughed  once  more,  and,  putting  his 
forefinger  to  his  forehead,  said:  "If  you  think  that 
Heribald  is  so  easily  imposed  upon,  you  are  vastly 
mistaken.  It  has  been  written,  when  God  created 
heaven  and  earth,  and  darkness  was  upon  the  face 
of  the  deep,  He  said:  'Let  there  be  light.'  Now 
if  God  were  a  cat  he  would  not  have  said:  'Let 
there  be  light.'     Heribald  will  not  kneel  down!" 

A  Hunnic  rider,  who  had  stealthily  approached 
the  monk,  now  pulled  his  garment,  and  whispered 
in  an  excellent  Suabian  dialect  in  his  ear:  "Coun- 
tryman, I  would  kneel  down,  if  I  were  in  your 
place.  They  are  dangerous  people."  The  warn- 
er*s  real  name  was  Snewelin,  and  his  birthplace 
was  EUwangen  in  Riesgau,  but  in  the  course  of 
time  he  had  dropped  his  Suabian  nationality  and 
had  become  a  Hun,  which  transformation  had 
rather  improved  his  material  fortunes.  When  he 
spoke,  his  voice  had  something  windy  about  it, 
which  was  caused  by  his  having  lost  four  front 
teeth,  besides  several  back  teeth ;  and  this  had  been 
the  principal  reason  why  he  had  became  a  Hun. 
In  his  younger  days,  namely,  when  he  was  still 
earning  a  peaceful  livelihood  in  the  capacity  of 
cart-driver  of  the  Salvator  convent,  he  had  been 
sent  northward,  with  a  cart-load  of  choice  Neckar 
wine,  to  the  great  market  at  Magdeburg  a  well- 
armed  escort  accompanying  him.  To  that  town, 
the  priests  of   the   heathenish   Pomeranians   and 

295 


Ekkehard 

Wends  always  resorted  to  buy  their  libation  wine, 
and  Snewelin  made  an  excellent  bargain  when 
he  sold  his  wine  to  the  white-bearded  high  priest 
of  the  three-headed  god  Triglaff  for  the  great 
temple  at  Stettin.  But  afterward  he  remained  sit- 
ting over  the  wine  with  the  white-bearded  heathen, 
who,  being  a  great  friend  of  the  Suabian  nectar, 
soon  became  enthusiastic,  singing  the  praises  of  his 
native  land,  and  saying  that  the  world  was  infi- 
nitely more  advanced  in  their  parts,  between  the 
Oder  and  the  Spree.  He  tried,  moreover,  to 
convert  Snewelin  to  the  worship  of  Triglaff,  the 
three-headed  one,  and  to  that  of  the  black  and 
white  sun-god  Radegast,  as  well  as  to  Radomysl, 
the  goddess  of  lovely  thoughts ;  but  this  was  rather 
too  much  for  the  man  of  Ellwangen.  "You  infa- 
mous heathenish  swindler,"  exclaimed  he,  first  up- 
setting the  wine-table,  and  then,  flying  at  him — as 
the  young  knight  Siegfried  did  at  the  wild,  long- 
bearded  dwarf  Alberich — he  wrestled  with  him, 
and  at  one  strong  tug  pulled  out  half  of  his  gray 
beard.  But  his  antagonist,  calling  on  Triglaff  to 
help  him,  dealt  him  a  blow  on  the  mouth  with  his 
iron-plated  staff,  which  forever  destroyed  the 
beauty  of  his  teeth ;  and  before  the  toothless  Sua- 
bian cart-driver  had  recovered  from  the  blow,  his 
white-bearded  antagonist  had  vanished,  so  that  he 
could  not  take  revenge  on  him.  But  when  Snew- 
elin walked  out  of  the  gates  of  Magdeburg,  he 

296 


Ekkehard 

shook  his  fists  northward,  and  said :  'We  two  shall 
meet  again,  some  day!" 

In  his  native  town  he  was  much  laughed  at  on 
account  of  his  lost  teeth,  and  so,  to  escape  the  con- 
tinual ridicule,  he  went  among  the  Huns,  hoping 
that  perhaps  some  day,  when  these  should  direct 
their  steps  northward,  he  would  be  able  to  settle  a 
heavy  account  with  the  three-headed  Triglafif  and 
all  his  worshipers. 

Heribald,  however,  did  not  heed  the  strange 
horseman's  warning.  The  woman  of  the  wood  had 
meanwhile  got  down  from  her  cart,  and  ap- 
proached Ellak.  With  a  sinister  grin  she  looked 
at  the  monk.  "I  have  read  in  the  stars  that  by  the 
hands  of  such  bald-headed  men  evil  will  befall  us," 
cried  she.  "To  prevent  the  coming  danger,  you 
ought  to  hang  up  this  miserable  creature  before  the 
cloister-gate,  with  his  face  turned  toward  yonder 
mountains!" 

"Hang  him  up,"  echoed  many  voices  in  the 
crowd,  the  pantomime  of  the  old  woman  having 
been  understood.  Ellak  once  more  turned  his  head 
toward  Erica.  "This  monster  has  also  got  princi- 
ples," said  he  tauntingly.  "It  would  save  his  life,^ 
and  yet  he  refuses  to  bend  his  knees.  Shall  we 
have  him  hanged,  Flower-of-the-heath?" 

Heribald's  life  was  hanging  on  a  very  slender 
thread.  Round  about,  he  saw  nothing  but  stern 
pitiless  faces;  his  courage  began  to  fail  him,  and 

297 


Ekkehard 

the  tears  came  into  his  eyes;  but  in  the  hour  of 
danger,  even  the  most  foolish  are  often  guided  by 
a  happy  instinct.  Like  a  star,  the  red-cheeked  face 
of  Erica  shone  before  him,  and  with  frightened 
steps  he  quickly  approached  her.  To  kneel  before 
her  was  not  such  a  difficult  task  to  him,  her  sweet 
looks  inspiring  him  with  confidence.  With  out- 
stretched arms  he  implored  her  assistance.      i 

"There!"  cried  the  Flower-of-the-heath,  "the 
man  of  the  island  is  by  no  means  so  foolish  as  he 
looks.  He  prefers  kneeling  to  Erica,  instead  of  the 
green  and  red  flag."  She  smiled  graciously  on  the 
pitiful  suppliant,  and,  jumping  from  the  saddle, 
she  patted  him  as  if  he  were  some  half-wild  animal. 
"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  she;  "thou  shalt  live,  poor 
old  black-coat!"  and  Heribald  could  read  in  her 
eyes  that  she  meant  what  she  said.  He  pointed  to 
the  woman  of  the  wood,  who  had  frightened  him 
most.  Erica  shook  her  head.  "She  shall  not 
harm  thee."  Then  Heribald  ran  briskly  to  the 
wall,  near  which  lilacs  and  spring  roses  were  al- 
ready blooming,  and,  hastily  tearing  off  some  of 
their  branches,  he  presented  them  to  the  Hunnic 
maiden.  i 

A  loud  shout  of  delight  rang  through  the  clois- 
ter-yard. "Hail  to  the  Flower-of-the-heath,"  cried 
they  all,  clashing  their  arms  together.  I 

"Why  don't  you  shout  likewise?"  whispered  the 
man  from  Ellwangen  into  Heribald's  ear.    So  he 

298  ! 


Ekkehard 

also  raised  his  voice  to  a  hoarse  "Hurrah!"  with 
tears  glistening  in  his  eyes. 

The  Huns  had  unsaddled  their  horses,  and  very 
much  resembled  a  pack  of  hounds  which,  in  the 
evening  at  the  end  of  the  sport,  are  waiting  for 
the  entrails  of  the  deer  which  has  been  killed. 
Here,  one  is  pulling  at  the  cord  that  restrains  him ; 
there,  another  is  barking  fiercely  with  impatience. 
With  similar  feelings  the  Huns  stood  before  the 
monastery.  At  last  EUak  gave  the  signal  that  the 
pillage  might  begin.  In  wild  disorder  they  then 
ran  forward  up  the  staircase,  and  along  the  pas- 
sage into  the  church.  Confused  cries,  of  expected 
booty  and  disappointed  hopes,  resounded  every- 
where. Then  they  examined  the  cells  of  the 
brotherhood,  but  here  also  nothing  was  found  ex- 
cept the  scanty  furniture. 

"Show  us  the  treasury,"  said  they  to  Heribald, 
who  complied  with  this  wish  willingly  enough, 
as  he  well  knew  that  all  that  was  precious  had  been 
taken  away.  Only  a  few  plated  candlesticks,  and 
the  big  emerald  of  colored  glass,  were  still  there. 

"Miserable  convent!  The  set  of  beggars!" 
called  out  one,  giving  a  kick  with  his  iron-clad 
foot  to  the  false  jewel,  so  that  it  became  cracked. 
Heribald  was  rewarded  by  sundry  heavy  blows, 
so  he  stole  sorrowfully  away,  as  soon  as  an  oppor- 
tunity offered. 

In  the  cross-passage  he  met  Snewelin,  who  ac- 

299 


Ekkehard 

costed  him  with:  "Countryman,  I  am  an  old  wine- 
merchant;  tell  me  where  your  cellar  may  be?" 
Heribald  led  him  down  and  chuckled  with  inward 
glee  when  he  saw  that  the  chief  entrance  had  been 
walled  up.  With  a  knowing  look  he  winked  at  the 
fresh  lime,  as  if  to  say  that  he  well  knew  its  secret. 
The  man  of  Ellwangen  without  much  ado  now  cut 
off  the  seals  on  one  of  the  tuns,  tapped  it,  and  filled 
his  helmet.  This  he  raised  to  his  lips,  and  took  a 
long,  long  draft.  "Oh  Hahnenkamm  and  Heiden- 
heim!"  exclaimed  he,  shivering  as  with  the  ague 
at  his  own  mention  of  those  two  notoriously  vil- 
lainous brands  of  wine,  "for  this  beverage  I  verily 
need  not  have  become  a  Hun!"  He  then  ordered 
his  companions  to  carry  up  the  vats,  but  Heribald, 
stepping  forward,  pulled  his  gown,  and  anxiously 
said :  "Allow  me,  my  good  man,  but  what  am  I  to 
drink  when  you  are  gone  away?" 

Snewelin  laughingly  reported  the  monk's  scru- 
ples to  the  others.  "The  fool  must  keep  some- 
thing," they  said,  putting  back  the  smallest  tun 
unopened.  This  kindness  touched  Heribald  so 
much,  that  he  fervently  shook  hands  with  them. 

Upstairs  in  the  courtyard  a  wild  shouting  was 
now  heard.  Some,  who  had  searched  the  church, 
had  also  lifted  a  gravestone,  from  under  which  a 
bleached  skull  grinned  at  them,  out  of  its  dark 
cowl.  This  spectacle  frightened  even  the  Huns. 
Two  of  the  gang  went  up  to  the  belfry,  the  steeple 

300 


Ekkehard 

of  which  was  adorned  with  a  gilt  weathercock, 
according  to  custom.  Whether  they  took  it  to  be 
the  protecting  god  of  the  monastery,  or  imagined 
it  to  be  real  gold,  they  climbed  up  the  roof,  and 
audaciously  sitting  there  tried  to  bring  the  cock 
down  with  their  lances.  But  now  a  sudden  giddi- 
ness came  over  them.  One  let  his  raised  arm  sink 
—a  stagger — a  cry — and  he  fell  down,  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  the  other.  With  broken  necks  they  lay 
in  the  cloister-yard. 

"A  bad  omen,"  said  EUak  to  himself.  The 
Huns  uttered  a  dismal  howl,  but  a  few  moments 
later  the  accident  was  entirely  forgotten.  The 
sword  had  ravished  so  many  of  their  companions 
from  their  side,  so  what  mattered  two  more  or 
less?  The  bodies  were  carried  into  the  cloister- 
garden.  With  the  logs  which  Heribald  had  upset 
in  the  early  morning,  a  funeral-pile  was  erected; 
the  books  which  had  been  left  in  the  libraries  were 
thrown  down  from  the  windows,  and  were  made 
use  of  in  filling  up  the  gaps  between  the  logs — ex- 
cellent material  for  fuel! 

Ellak  and  Hornebog  were  walking  together 
through  the  ranks.  Squeezed  in  between  the  logs, 
a  neatly  written  manuscript  with  shining  golden 
initials  peeped  out.  Hornebog,  drawing  his 
sword,  pierced  the  parchment  with  it,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  his  companion,  stuck  on  the  point 
of  the  blade. 

301 


Ekkehard  ! 

i 

"What  do  these  hooks  and  chickens*  feet  mean, 
Sir  Brother?"  asked  he. 

Ellak  took  the  manuscript,  and  glanced  over 
some  of  its  pages.    He  also  knew  Latin. 

"Western  wisdom,"  replied  he.    "A  man  named 
Boethius  wrote  it,  and  it  contains  many  fine  things 
about  the  comforts  of  philosophy." 

"Phi — losophy,"  slowly  repeated  Hornebog; 
"what  does  that  mean,  Sir  Brother?" 

"It  does  not  mean  a  fair  woman,  nor  yet  fire- 
water either,"  was  EUak's  reply.  "It  will  be  dif- 
ficult to  describe  it  in  the  Hunnic  language  .  .  . 
but  if  a  man  does  not  know  wherefore  he  is  in  the 
world,  and  stands  on  his  head  to  find  out  the  rea- 
son, that  is  near  about  what  they  call  philosophy 
in  these  western  lands.  He  who  comforted  himself 
with  it,  in  his  tower  at  Pavia,  was  killed  for  it  after 
all." 

"And  that  served  him  right!"  exclaimed  Horne- 
bog. "He  who  holds  a  sword  in  his  hand,  and 
feels  a  horse  between  his  thighs,  knows  why  he  is 
in  the  world;  and  if  we  did  not  know  the  reason 
better  than  those  who  smear  such  hooks  on  asses' 
skins,  then  they  would  be  on  our  heels  at  the  Dan- 
ube, and  our  horses  would  not  drink  their  fill  out 
of  the  Suabian  sea."  I 

"Don't  you  think  that  it  is  very  lucky  that  such 
trash  is  made?"  continued  Ellak,  throwing  back 
the  manuscript  on  to  the  funeral-pile.  j 

302 


Ekkehard 

"Why  so?"  asked  Hornebog. 

"Because  the  hand  which  guides  the  pen  is  never 
fit  to  handle  the  sword  so  as  to  make  a  good  gash  in 
the  flesh ;  and  when  once  the  nonsense  which  is  con- 
cocted by  one  single  head  is  written  down,  then  at 
least  a  hundred  others  will  muddle  their  brains 
with  it.  A  hundred  blockheads  more  make  a  hun- 
dred soldiers  less,  which  is  clearly  enough  to  our 
advantage,  whenever  we  choose  to  make  an  inva- 
sion. 'As  long  as  they  write  books  and  hold  synods 
in  the  West,  my  children  may  safely  carry  their 
tents  forward !'  that's  what  the  great  Attila  himself 
said." 

"Praised  be  the  great  Attila!"  said  Hornebog, 
reverently,  when  a  voice  called  out,  "Let  the  dead 
rest!"  and,  with  dancing  steps.  Erica  came  toward 
the  two  chieftains.  She  had  mustered  the  booty  of 
the  cloister,  and  an  altar-cloth  of  red  silk,  finding 
grace  in  her  eyes,  she  put  it  on  like  a  mantle,  the 
corners  lightly  thrown  back  over  her  shoulders. 

"How  do  I  look?"  said  she,  turning  her  little 
head  about  complacently. 

"The  Flower-of-the-heath  does  not  require  any 
tinsel  belonging  to  Suabian  idolators  to  please  us," 
sternly  replied  Ellak.  Upon  this,  she  jumped  up 
at  him,  to  pat  and  stroke  his  lank  black  hair,  and 
then  called  out:  "Come  along,  the  meal  is  ready." 

Then  they  went  all  three  to  the  courtyard.  All 
the  hay  which   could  be   found   the   Huns   had 

303 


Ekkehard 

strewn  about,  lying  down  on  it  and  waiting  for  the 
repast.  With  crossed  arms,  Heribald  stood  in  the 
background,  looking  down  at  them.  "The  heath- 
enish dogs  can  not  even  sit  down  like  Christians, 
when  they  are  about  to  eat  their  daily  bread,"  he 
thought,  taking  good  care,  however,  not  to  utter 
his  thoughts  aloud.  The  experience  of  former 
blows  had  taught  him  silence. 

"Lie  down  blackcoat;  thou  mayest  eat  also," 
cried  Erica,  making  a  sign  to  him  to  follow  the 
example  of  the  others.  He  looked  at  the  man  of 
Ellwangen,  who  was  lying  there  with  crossed  legs, 
as  if  he  had  never  known  what  it  was  to  sit  other- 
wise. So  Heribald  tried  to  follow  his  example; 
but  he  very  soon  got  up  again,  as  this  position 
seemed  too  undignified  to  him.  So  he  fetched  a 
chair  out  of  the  monastery,  and  sat  down  upon  it. 

A  whole  ox  had  been  roasted  on  a  spit,  and 
whatever  else  they  had  found  in  the  cloister- 
kitchen  served  to  complete  the  repast;  and  they 
fell  to,  ravenously.  They  cut  off  the  meat  with 
their  short  sabres,  their  fingers  serving  as  knife 
and  fork.  In  the  middle  of  the  courtyard  the  big 
wine-tun  stood  upright;  every  one  taking  as  much 
as  he  liked.  Here  and  there,  a  finely  wrought 
chalice  was  used  as  a  drinking-cup.  Heribald  also 
took  as  much  wine  as  he  wished  for,  but  when 
with  inward  contentment  he  was  just  beginning 
to  sip  at  it,  a  half-gnawed  bone  flew  at  his  head. 

304  i 


Ekkehard 

With  a  sorrowful  look  of  surprise  he  gazed  up, 
and  beheld  that  many  another  met  with  the  same 
fate.  To  throw  bones  at  each  other  was  a  Hunnic 
custom,  which  served  as  dessert. 

When  the  wine  was  beginning  to  tell  on  them, 
they  began  a  rough  and  unmelodious  singing. 
Two  of  the  younger  horsemen  sang  an  old  song 
in  honor  of  King  Attila,  in  which  it  was  said 
that  he  had  not  only  been  a  conqueror  with  the 
sword,  but  also  a  conqueror  of  hearts.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  taunting  verse,  on  a  Roman  Emperor's 
sister  who,  charmed  with  him  by  hearsay,  fell  in 
love  with  him  at  a  distance,  and  offered  her  heart 
and  hand  to  him,  which,  however,  he  refused. 

The  chorus  which  followed  it  strongly  resem- 
bled the  screeching  of  owls  and  the  croaking  of 
frogs.  When  this  was  finished,  some  of  the  men 
approached  Heribald,  and  made  him  understand 
that  he  also  was  expected  to  give  them  a  song. 
He  began  by  refusing,  but  this  availed  him  noth- 
ing. So  he  sang  in  an  almost  sobbing  voice  the  an- 
tiphon  in  honor  of  the  holy  cross,  beginning  with 
the  "Sanctifica  nos!' 

With  mute  astonishment  the  drunken  men  lis- 
tened to  the  long-drawn  notes  of  the  ancient 
church  music,  which  sounded  like  the  voice  of  the 
preacher  in  the  wilderness.  With  rising  anger, 
the  woman  of  the  wood,  sitting  beside  the  copper 
kettle,  heard  it.    Grasping  her  knife,  she  stealthily 

305 


Ekkehard 

approached  Heribald  from  behind,  and,  seizing 
his  hair,  wanted  to  cut  off  his  curls — the  greatest 
insult  that  could  be  offered  to  a  consecrated  head. 
But  Heribald  vigorously  pushed  her  back,  and 
chanted  on,  nothing  daunted,  which  mightily 
pleased  the  assembly,  so  that  they  gave  a  shout  of 
delight.  Cymbals  and  violins  also  resounded 
again,  and  now  Erica,  who  had  become  tired 
of  the  monotonous  chant,  approached  Heribald. 
With  a  look  that  combined  both  archness  and  pity, 
she  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  drawing  him  into 
the  midst  of  the  w^ild  dance  which  was  now  begin- 
ning, she  called  out:  "Singing  must  always  be 
followed  by  dancing!"  Heribald  did  not  know 
what  to  do,  while  the  Flower-of-the-heath  was  all 
eagerness  to  begin.  "It  matters  little  whether 
Heribald  dances  or  not,  it  will  be  only  an- 
other small  link  in  the  chain  of  abominations,"  he 
finally  thought;  so  he  bravely  stamped  the  ground 
with  his  sandal-clad  feet,  his  habit  flying  about 
him.  Tighter  and  tighter  he  pressed  the  Hunnic 
maiden's  waist,  and  who  knows  what  might  still 
have  happened  if  she  had  not,  with  heightened 
color  and  panting  bosom,  finally  stopped  of  her 
own  accord.  Giving  her  partner  a  little  playful 
slap  in  the  face,  she  ran  off  to  the  chieftains, 
who  with  serious  faces  were  looking  on  at  the 
frolics.  I 

The  shouts  were  dying  out  now,  the  fumes  o£ 

306  I 


Ekkehard 

the  wine  being  danced  off.  So  Ellak  gave  the 
order  to  burn  the  dead.  In  a  moment's  time,  the 
whole  troop  were  seated  on  horseback,  and  riding 
in  closed  ranks  to  the  funeral-pile.  The  horses  of 
the  two  deceased  were  then  stabbed  by  the  eldest 
of  the  Huns,  and  laid  beside  their  late  masters' 
bodies.  Calling  out  some  monstrous  conjura- 
tions, he  lifted  the  firebrand  and  lighted  the  pile. 
Boethius's  "Comfort  of  Philosophy,"  pine-logs, 
manuscripts,  and  corpses  vied  with  each  other 
which  could  burn  the  brightest,  and  a  mighty 
pillar  of  flames  and  smoke  rose  up  to  the  sky. 

With  wrestling,  warlike  exercises  and  races,  the 
memory  of  the  dead  was  celebrated.  The  sun  had 
sunk  far  down  in  the  west,  and  so  the  whole  body 
of  Huns  entered  the  monastery,  there  to  pass  the 
night. 

It  was  on  the  Thursday  before  Easter  when  all 
this  happened  on  the  island  of  Reichenau.  The 
tidings  of  this  invasion  soon  reached  the  fisher- 
men's huts  around  Radolfszell.  When  Moengal, 
the  parish  priest,  held  the  early  morning  service, 
he  still  counted  six  of  his  flock,  but  in  the  afternoon 
there  were  only  three,  including  himself. 

Gloomily  he  sat  in  the  little  room  in  which  he 
had  once  hospitably  entertained  Ekkehard,  when 
the  pillar  of  smoke  from  the  Hunnic  funeral-pile 
rose  into  the  air.  It  was  dense  and  black  enough 
for  him  to  suppose  the  whole  monastery  to  be  in 

307 


Ekkehard 

flames,  and  the  scent  of  burning  came  over  the 
lake. 

''Hihahoi!"  cried  Moengal,  ";^m  proximus  ardet 
Ucaiegon;  it  is  already  burning  at  neighbor  Uca- 
legon's!  Then  it  is  time  for  me  to  get  ready  too. 
Out  with  ye  now,  my  old  Cambutta!" 

Cambutta,  however,  was  no  serving-maid,  but  a 
huge  bludgeon,  a  real  Irish  shillalah,  and  Moen- 
gal's  favorite  weapon.  The  chalice  and  ciborium 
he  packed  up  and  put  into  his  leathern  game-bag. 
This  was  all  he  possessed  of  gold  or  silver.  Then 
he  called  his  hounds,  his  hawk,  and  two  falcons 
together,  and  giving  them  all  the  meat  and  fish 
his  pantry  boasted,  he  said:  ^'Children,  eat  as  much 
as  ever  you  can,  so  that  nothing  may  be  left  for 
those  cursed  plagues  when  they  come!" 

He  knocked  to  pieces  the  vat  in  the  cellar,  so 
that  the  sparkling  wine  streamed  forth.  "Not  a 
drop  of  wine  shall  the  devils  drink  in  Moengal's 
house,"  said  he.  Only  the  jug  which  contained  the 
vinegar  was  left  in  its  place.  On  the  fresh,  deli- 
cious butter  in  the  wooden  tun  he  emptied  a  basket- 
ful of  ashes.  His  fishing-tackle  and  other  sporting 
utensils  he  buried  in  the  ground ;  then  he  smashed 
the  windows,  and  strewed  the  fragments  about  in 
the  room.  Some  he  even  put  into  the  chinks  of 
the  floor,  with  the  points  turned  upward — all  in 
honor  of  the  Huns!  Hawk  and  falcons  then  re- 
ceived their  liberty.     "Farewell!"  cried  he,  "and 

308 


Ekkehard 

keep  near,  for  soon  you  will  get  dead  heathens 
to  pick!" 

So  his  house  was  put  in  order.  Hanging  the 
game-bag,  as  well  as  a  Hibernian  canteen,  over 
his  shoulders,  with  two  spears  in  his  hands,  and 
Cambutta  fastened  on  his  back — thus  old  Moengal 
walked  out  of  his  parsonage,  which  had  been  his 
home  for  so  many  years,  a  valiant  champion  of 
the  Lord! 

He  had  already  gone  on  a  few  paces  through 
the  smoke-darkened  atmosphere,  when  he  sud- 
denly stopped  short,  saying:  "Wait  a  bit,  I  have 
forgotten  something." 

So  he  quickly  retraced  his  steps,  murmuring: 
"The  yellow-faced  rascals  shall  at  least  find  some 
written  words  of  welcome." 

Arrived  at  his  door,  he  drew  a  piece  of  red  chalk 
from  his  pocket,  and  therewith  wrote  in  large 
Irish  characters  a  few  words  on  the  gray  sand- 
Stone  slab  over  the  portal.  Later  rains  have  washed 
them  away,  and  nobody  has  ever  read  them,  but 
no  doubt  it  was  a  significant  greeting  w^hich  old 
Moengal  left  behind  him  in  Irish  runes.  Quick- 
ening his  pace  he  then  took  the  direction  of  the 
Hohentwiel. 


309 


Ekkehard 


CHAPTER   XIV  I 

t 

THE    BATTLE    WITH    THE    HUNS 

Good  Friday  had  come;  but  the  anniversary  of 
our  Saviour's  death  was  not  kept  on  the  Hohen- 
twiel  this  time  in  the  silent  way  which  the  pre- 
scriptions of  the  church  require.  By  the  arrival 
of  old  Moengal  all  doubts  about  the  enemy's  ap- 
proach'were  dispersed.  Late  in  the  night  a  coun- 
cil of  war  was  held,  at  which  it  was  determined 
to  go  out  and  meet  the  Huns  in  open  battle. 

The  sun  rose  drearily  on  that  day,  soon  being 
hidden  again  in  mist.  A  fierce  gale  was  blowing 
over  the  land,  chasing  the  clouds  along,  so  that 
they  sank  down  on  the  distant  Bodensee,  as  if 
water  and  air  were  to  mingle  together.  Now  and 
then  a  solitary  sunbeam  struggled  through.  It 
was  the  as  yet  undecided  battle  which  spring  was 
waging  against  the  powers  of  winter.  The  men 
had  already  risen,  and  were  preparing  for  a  seri- 
ous day's  work. 

In  his  closet,  up  in  the  watch-tower,  Ekkehard 
w^as  silently  pacing  up  and  down,  his  hands  folded 
in  prayer.  A  highly  honorable  commission  had 
devolved  on  him.    He  was  to  preach  a  sermon  to 

310  I 


Ekkehard 

the  united  forces  before  they  went  out  to  battle, 
and  so  he  was  now  praying  for  strength  and 
inspiration,  that  his  words  might  be  like  sparks, 
kindling  the  warlike  flame  in  each  breast.  Sud- 
denly the  door  opened,  and  in  came  the  Duchess, 
unaccompanied  by  Praxedis.  Over  her  morning- 
dress  she  had  thrown  an  ample  cloak,  to  protect 
herself  against  the  cool  air;  perhaps  also  that  she 
might  not  be  recognized  by  the  strange  guests, 
while  going  over  to  the  watch-tower.  A  faint 
blush  mantled  on  her  cheeks,  as  she  thus  stood 
alone,  opposite  her  youthful  teacher. 

"You  are  also  going  out  to  battle,  to-day?"  asked 
she. 

"Yes,  I  go  with  the  others,"  replied  Ekkehard. 

"I  should  despise  you,  if  you  had  given  me  any 
other  reply,"  said  she;  "and  you  have  justly  pre- 
sumed that  for  such  an  expedition  it  would  not 
be  necessary  to  ask  my  leave.  But  have  you  not 
thought  of  saying  good-by?"  added  she,  in  low, 
reproachful  accents. 

Ekkehard  was  embarrassed.  "There  are  many 
nobler  and  better  men  leaving  your  castle  to-day. 
The  departing  abbots  and  knights  will  claim  all 
your  attention;  abbots  and  knights  will  surround 
you.  How,  then,  could  I  think  of  taking  a  special 
leave  of  you,  even  if — "     His  voice  broke  off. 

The  Duchess  looked  into  his  eyes.  Neither  said 
a  word. 

311 


Ekkehard  i 

"I  have  brought  you  something  which  is  to 
serve  you  in  battle,'*  said  she  after  a  while,  drawing 
out  a  handsome  sword  with  a  rich  shoulder-belt 
from  under  her  mantle.  A  white  agate  adorned 
the  hilt.  "It  is  the  sword  of  Sir  Burlthard,  my 
late  husband.  Of  all  the  arms  he  possessed,  he 
valued  this  the  most.  With  that  blade  one  could 
split  rocks  without  breaking  it,'  he  said  many  a 
time.    You  will  wear  it  to-day  with  honor." 

She  held  out  the  sword  to  him;  Ekkehard  re- 
ceived it  in  silence.  His  coat  of  mail  he  had  al- 
ready put  on  under  his  habit.  He  buckled  on 
the  shoulder-belt,  and  then  seized  the  hilt  with 
his  right  hand,  as  if  the  enemy  were  already  fac- 
ing him. 

"I  hkve  something  else  for  you,"  continued 
Dame  Hadwig.  And  she  now  drew  forth  a  golden 
locket  hanging  on  a  silk  ribbon  round  her  neck. 
It  contained  nothing  but  an  insignificant-looking 
splinter  of  wood.  I 

"If  my  prayers  should  not  suffice,  then  this  relic 
will  protect  you.  It  is  a  splinter  of  the  holy  cross, 
which  the  Empress  Helena  discovered.  Wherever 
this  relic  is,  wrote  the  Greek  patriarch  who  at- 
tested its  genuineness,  there  will  be  peace,  hap- 
piness, and  serenity.  May  it  bring  a  blessing  to 
you  in  the  coming  battle." 

She  leaned  toward  him,  to  hang  the  jewel  round 
his  neck.    Quickly  he  bent  his  knees  to  receive  it; 

312  , 


Ekkehard 

but  it  had  long  been  hanging  round  his  neck,  and 
still  he  knelt  before  her.  She  passed  her  hand 
lightly  over  his  curly  hair,  and  there  was  a  pecul- 
iarly soft  and  half  sad  expression  on  the  usually 
haughty  countenance. 

Ekkehard  had  bent  his  knee  at  the  name  of  the 
holy  cross,  but  now  he  felt  as  if  he  must  kneel 
down  a  second  time  before  her,  who  was  thus  gra- 
ciously thinking  of  him.  A  budding  affection 
requires  some  time  to  understand  itself  clearly, 
and  in  matters  of  love  he  had  not  learned  to  reckon 
and  count,  as  in  the  verses  of  Virgil,  or  he  might 
have  guessed  that  she  who  had  taken  him  away 
from  his  quiet  cloister-cell,  that  she  who  on  that 
evening  on  the  Hohenkrahen  had  looked  on  him 
so  tenderly,  and  now  on  the  morning  of  battle  was 
standing  before  him  as  Dame  Hadwig  was  at  that 
moment,  might  well  have  expected  some  words 
out  of  the  depth  of  his  heart — perhaps  even  more 
than  words  only. 

His  thoughts  quickly  followed  each  other,  and 
all  his  pulses  were  throbbing.  When  on  former 
occasions  anything  like  love  had  stirred  his  heart, 
then  the  reverence  for  his  mistress  had  driven  it 
back,  nipping  it  in  the  bud,  as  the  cold  winds  of 
March  wither  and  blight  the  early  spring  flowers. 
At  this  moment,  however,  he  was  not  thinking  of 
that  reverence,  but  rather  how  he  had  once  car- 
ried the  Duchess  boldly  over  the  cloister-yard. 

313 

Vol.  3  (A)— 14 


Ekkehard  J 

Neither  did  he  think  of  his  monastic  vow,  but  he 
felt  as  if  he  must  rush  into  her  arms,  and  press 
her  to  his  heart  with  a  cry  of  delight.  Sir  Burk- 
hard's  sword  seemed  to  burn  at  his  side.  "Throw 
aside  all  reserve,  for  only  the  bold  will  conquer 
the  world. '^  Were  not  these  words  to  be  read  in 
Dame  Hadwig's  eyes?  I 

He  stood  up;  strong,  great,  and  free — she  had 
never  seen  him  look  so  before — but  it  lasted  only 
a  second.  As  yet  not  one  sound  betraying  his  in- 
ward struggle  had  escaped  his  lips,  when  his  eye 
fell  on  the  dark,  ebony  cross,  which  Vincentius 
had  once  hung  up  on  the  wall.  "It  is  the  day  of 
the  Lord,  and  thou  shalt  open  thy  lips  to-day 
before  his  people;"  and  the  remembrance  of  his 
duty  drove  away  all  other  thoughts.  .    .    . 

Shyly,  as  on  former  occasions,  he  took  Dame 
Hadwig's  hand.  "How  shall  I  thank  my  mis- 
tress?" said  he,  in  broken  accents. 

She  cast  a  searching  look  at  him.  The  soft  ex- 
pression had  vanished,  and  the  old  sternness  had 
returned  to  her  brow,  as  if  she  meant  to  say:  "If 
you  don't  know  how,  I  am  not  ^oing  to  tell  you." 
But  she  said  nothing.  Still  Ekkehard  held  her 
hand  in  his.    She  drew  it  back.  i 

"Be  pious  and  brave,"  said  she,  turning  to  leave 
the  chamber.    It  sounded  like  mockery.  ... 

Scarcely  longer  than  a  person  needs  to  say  the 
Lord's  Prayer  had  the  Duchess  been  with  him, 

3H 


Ekkehard 

but  far  more  had  happened  in  that  time  than  he 
knew  of. 

He  resumed  his  walk  up  and  down  his  small 
abode.  "Thou  shalt  deny  thyself  and  follow  the 
Lord,"  thus  St.  Benedict's  rules  began,  and  Ekke- 
hard felt  almost  proud  of  the  victory  he  had  won. 
But  Dame  Hadwig  had  gone  away  with  wounded 
pride;  and  if  a  haughty  mind  believes  itself  to  be 
disdained,  evil  days  must  follow. 

It  was  the  seventh  hour  of  the  morning,  and  in 
the  courtyard  on  the  Hohentwiel  they  were  all 
attending  divine  service  before  setting  out.  The 
altar  had  been  erected  under  the  old  linden  tree, 
and  on  it  were  placed  the  sacred  relics,  to  comfort 
the  hearts  of  all  believers.  The  courtyard  was 
entirely  filled  with  armed  men,  standing  in  close, 
orderly  groups,  just  as  Simon  Bardo  had  arranged 
them.  Like  the  roll  of  distant  thunder  arose  the 
holy  chants  of  the  monks.  The  Abbot  of  Reiche- 
nau,  wearing  the  black  pall  with  the  white  cross, 
was  to  celebrate  high  mass. 

Ekkehard  mounted  the  altar-steps  after  him. 
With  deep  emotion  his  eye  glided  over  the 
crowded  assembly;  once  more  the  remembrance  of 
how  he  had  but  a  short  while  ago  stood  face  to  face 
with  the  Duchess  in  the  solitary  chamber  passed 
through  his  mind ;  and  then  he  read  in  the  Gospel 
of  the  suffering  and  death  of  our  Saviour.  As  he 
read  on,  his  voice  became  more  and  more  clear  and 

3^5 


Ekkehard 

distinct,  and  when  he  had  finished  he  first  kissed 
the  book  and  then  handed  it  to  the  deacon,  for 
him  to  put  it  back  on  its  silk  cushion.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  looked  up  heavenward,  and  then  began 
his  sermon. 

The  assembly  listened  to  his  words  with  breath- 
less attention. 

"Almost  a  thousand  years  have  come  and  gone," 
cried  he,  "since  the  Son  of  God  bent  His  head  on 
the  cross,  saying,  *It  is  finished T  but  we  have  not 
yet  prepared  our  souls  to  receive  the  redemption, 
for  we  have  lived  in  sin,  and  the  offenses  which 
we  have  committed  through  the  hardness  of  our 
hearts  cry  out  against  us  to  Heaven.  Therefore  a 
time  of  affliction  has  come  upon  us;  glittering 
swords  are  raised  against  us;  heathenish  monsters 
have  invaded  Christian  soil. 

"But  instead  of  angrily  inquiring,  *How  long 
will  the  Lord  forbear  before  He  interferes  and  de- 
livers our  beloved  homes  from  the  hands  of  such 
heathenish  idolaters?'  let  everybody  strike  his  own 
bosom  and  say,  *On  account  of  our  sins  this  chas- 
tisement has  been  sent  upon  us.'  And  if  you  would 
be  delivered  from  them,  think  of  our  Saviour's 
painful  death,  and,  as  He  took  up  His  cross, 
bearing  it  Himself  to  the  place  of  skulls,  so 
must  you  seize  the  sword,  and  seek  your  own 
Golgotha!"  ... 

Pointing  over  to  the  shores  of  the  lake,  he  poured 

316  I 


Ekkehard 

out  words  of  comfort  and  prophecy,  strong  and 
powerful  as  the  lion's  call  in  the  desert. 

"The  times  are  coming  of  which  it  has  been 
written:  'And  when  the  thousand  years  are  ex- 
pired, Satan  shall  be  loosed  out  of  his  prison,  and 
shall  go  out  to  deceive  the  nations,  which  are  in 
the  four  quarters  of  the  earth,  Gog  and  Magog, 
to  gather  them  together  to  battle:  the  number  of 
whom  is  as  the  sand  of  the  sea.  And  they  went 
up,  on  the  breadth  of  the  earth,  and  compassed 
the  camp  of  the  saints  about,  and  the  beloved 
city:  and  fire  came  down  from  God,  out  of  heaven, 
and  devoured  them.  And  the  devil  that  deceived 
them  was  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone, 
where  the  beast  and  the  false  prophet  are,  and 
shall  be  tormented  day  and  night,  forever  and 
ever.' 

"And  all  this,  which  the  seer  beheld  and  re- 
vealed at  Patmos,  is  for  us  a  promise  of  the  vic- 
tory that  is  to  come,  if  we  go  out  with  purified 
hearts  to  meet  the  enemy.  Let  them  come  on  their 
swift  horses;  what  does  it  matter?  The  Lord  has 
marked  them  as  the  children  of  the  Devil,  there- 
fore their  face  is  but  a  mockery  of  the  human 
countenance.  They  can  destroy  the  harvest  on  our 
fields,  and  desecrate  our  altars,  but  they  can  not 
resist  the  powerful  arms  of  those  whom  God  him- 
self has  inspired.  Therefore  keep  in  mind  that 
we  Suabians  must  always  be  in  the  foremost  ranks 

317 


Ekkehard 

when  the  Fatherland  has  to  be  defended;  and  if 
at  other  times  it  would  be  a  dire  sin  in  the  eyes  of 
the  Lord  to  buckle  on  the  sword  on  His  holy  day, 
to-day  He  will  bless  our  weapons,  and  send  down 
His  saints  to  assist  us,  and  Himself  fight  in  our 
ranks — He  the  Lord  of  hosts,  who  sends  down  His 
destroying  lightnings,  and  opens  the  bowels  of 
earth  itself,  when  the  right  time  has  come." 

With  choice  examples  of  glorious  warlike 
deeds  Ekkehard  then  tried  to  inspire  his  auditors ; 
and  many  a  hand  fiercely  grasped  the  spear,  and 
many  a  foot  was  lifted  impatiently  from  the 
ground,  when  he  spoke  of  Joshua,  who  with  the 
Lord's  help  had  conquered  thirty-one  kings,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Jordan ;  and  of  Gideon,  who 
with  loud  sounding  trumpets  entered  the  camp 
of  the  Midianites,  and  drove  them  before  him 
unto  Bethesda  and  Tebbath;  and  of  the  sally  of 
the  men  of  Bethulia,  who  after  Judith's  glorious 
deed  smote  the  Assyrians  with  the  edge  of  the 
sword. 

But  at  the  end  he  quoted  the  words  which  Judas 
Maccabaeus  had  spoken  to  his  people,  when  they 
erected  their  camp  at  Emaus,  before  going  out  to 
fight  the  army  of  King  Antiochus:  "Arm  your- 
selves and  be  valiant  men,  and  see  that  ye  be  in 
readiness  against  the  morning,  that  ye  may  fight 
with  these  nations  that  are  assembled  together 
against  us  to  destroy  us  and  our  sanctuary." 

318  ! 


Ekkehard 

For  a  moment  after  he  had  ended  there  was 
perfect  silence,  but  soon  arose  a  great  stir  among 
the  men,  and  a  rattling  and  clashing  of  arms  was 
heard.  Swords  and  shields  w^ere  knocked  to- 
gether, spears  lifted  and  badges  waved  in  the  air; 
all,  as  signs  of  hearty  approval,  according  to  old 
custom.  "Amen,"  was  repeated  from  all  sides, 
while  the  whole  assembly  fell  on  their  knees,  as 
the  high  mass  was  reaching  its  close.  The  wooden 
rattles,  instead  of  the  usual  church-bells,  thrilled 
them  with  awe.  Every  one  who  had  not  yet  taken 
the  holy  sacrament  went  up  to  the  altar  to  re- 
ceive it.  But  now  from  the  watch-tower  was  sud- 
denly heard  the  cry:  "To  arms!  to  arms!  the  enemy 
is  coming!  A  dark  mass  of  riders  and  horses  is 
moving  toward  us  from  the  lake!"  And  now 
there  was  no  longer  any  possibility  of  keeping 
back  the  eager  men,  who  were  all  pressing  to- 
ward the  gate.  Abbot  Wazmann  having  scarcely 
time  to  pronounce  a  blessing  over  them. 

So,  in  our  days  does  the  fisherman  of  the  north 
run  out  of  the  church  on  a  Sunday,  at  the  time 
when  the  shoals  of  herrings  are  approaching. 
"The  fish  are  coming,"  cries  the  watchman  on  the 
shore,  and  the  moment  afterward  every  man  is 
hurrying  away  toward  the  boats.  Forsaken  and 
alone  stands  the  clergyman;  so  his  devotions  are 
at  an  end  and  he  seizes  the  nets  likewise  to  wage 
war  upon  the  scaly  tribe. 

319 


Ekkehard 

Thirsting  for  the  coming  battle,  the  troops  left 
the  courtyard,  each  heart  swelling  with  the  soul- 
stirring  conviction  that  a  great  and  important 
moment  was  at  hand.  The  monks  of  St.  Gall 
mustered  sixty-four,  those  of  the  Reichenau  ninety, 
and  of  the  lay  vassalage  there  were  above  five  hun- 
dred. Close  by  the  standard  of  the  cross  of  the 
brotherhood  of  St.  Gall  walked  Ekkehard.  It 
was  a  crucifix,  veiled  in  black  crape,  with  long 
black  streamers,  since  the  monastery's  banner  had 
been  left  behind.  i 

On  the  balcony  stood  the  Duchess,  waving  her 
white  handkerchief.  Ekkehard,  turning  round, 
looked  up  at  her,  but  her  eyes  evaded  his,  as  if  the 
parting  salutation  were  not  meant  for  him.  i 

St.  Mark's  coffin  had  been  carried  down  to  the 
low^er  castle-gate  by  some  of  the  serving  brothers. 
Every  one  touched  it  with  the  point  of  his  lance 
and  of  his  sword,  and  then  silently  passed  on.  ' 

In  the  wide  plain  stretching  out  toward  the 
lake  Simon  Bardo  drew  up  his  troops,  and  one 
could  see  how  pleased  the  old  field-marshal  was 
that  his  scar-covered  breast  again  wore  the  ac- 
customed mail,  instead  of  the  monk's  habit.  His 
head  was  covered  by  a  strangely  shaped,  pointed 
steel  morion;  his  broad,  jewel-set  girdle,  as  well 
as  the  gilt  handle  of  his  sword,  indicated  the  gen- 
eral's rank.  ! 

"yow  read  the  classics  on  account  of  the  gram- 

320 


Ekkehard 

marl*  said  he  to  the  Abbots,  "but  /  have  learned 
my  handicraft  from  them.  With  the  military  ad- 
vice of  Frontinus  and  Vegetius,  one  may  still 
achieve  something  even  nowadays.  First  w^e  will 
try  the  battle  array  of  the  Roman  legions ;  for  in 
that  position  one  can  best  await  the  enemy,  and 
see  what  he  means  to  do.  Afterward,  we  are 
still  at  liberty  to  change  our  tactics,  for  affairs  will 
not  be  settled  between  us  in  half  an  hour." 

The  light  corps  of  the  archers  and  sling-bearers 
were  ordered  to  occupy  the  border  of  the  w^ood, 
where  they  would  be  sheltered  by  the  fir  trees 
against  any  attack  on  horseback.  "Aim  low,"  said 
he,  "for  even  if  you  should  merely  hit  the  horse 
instead  of  the  rider,  it  is  alw^ays  something."  At 
the  sound  of  the  bugle,  the  troop  advanced  to  ex- 
ecute his  commands.  As  yet,  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  of  the  enemy. 

The  lay  vassals  he  arrayed  in  two  close  ranks. 
With  leveled  lances  they  slowly  advanced,  a 
space  of  a  few  steps  remaining  between  the  tvvo 
files.  The  knight  of  Randegg  and  the  gaunt 
Friedinger  commanded  them. 

The  monks  Simon  Bardo  collected  into  one 
compact  body,  placing  them  in  the  rear. 

"Why  this?"  asked  Abbot  Wazmann,  inwardly 
hurt  at  losing  the  honor  of  heading  the  attack. 
But  Bardo,  experienced  in  war,  smilingly  replied: 
"Those  are  my  Triarians;  not  because  they  are 

321 


Ekkehard 

I 

veteran  soldiers,  but  because  they  are  fighting  for 
their  own  warm  nests.  To  be  driven  out  of  house 
and  home  and  bed  makes  swords  cut  deepest,  and 
spears  thrust  fiercest.  Don't  be  afraid,  the  tug 
of  war  will  yet  draw  the  disciples  of  St.  Benedict 
into  the  strife." 

The  Huns  had  left  the  monastery  of  Reichenau 
at  early  dawn.  The  provisions  were  all  consumed, 
the  wine  drunk,  and  the  cloister  pillaged ;  so  their 
day's  work  was  done.  Heribald's  forehead  lost 
many  a  wrinkle  when  the  last  of  the  Hunnic 
riders  had  passed  out  of  the  cloister-gate.  He 
threw  after  them  a  golden  coin  which  the  man 
from  Ellwangen  had  secretly  thrust  into  his  hand. 
"Countryman,  if  thou  shouldst  hear  that  a  mishap 
has  befallen  me,"  said  Snewelin,  "I  trust  that  thou 
wilt  let  a  dozen  masses  be  read  for  my  poor  soul. 
I  have  always  befriended  you  and  your  fellow- 
monks,  and  how  I  have  fallen  among  the  heathens 
I  scarcely  can  understand  myself.  The  soil  of  Ell- 
wangen is  unfortunately  too  rough  and  stony  for 
producing  saints." 

Heribald,  however,  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him.  In  the  garden  he  shoveled  up  the 
bones  and  ashes  of  the  burnt  Huns  and  their 
horses,  throwing  them  into  the  lake,  while  the 
Huns  were  still  visible  on  the  other  side.  "No 
heathen  dust  shall  remain  on  the  island,*'  said  he. 
Then  he  went  to  the  cloister-yard,  and  thought- 

322  j 


Ekkehard 

fully  stared  at  the  place  where  he  had  been  forced 
to  dance  on  the  day  before. 

Meanwhile,  the  Huns  were  riding  through  the 
dark  fir  wood  toward  the  Hohentwiel.  But  as 
they  were  thus  cantering  along,  heedless  of  all 
danger,  here  and  there  a  horse  began  to  stagger, 
and  arrows  and  other  sharp  missiles  flew  into  their 
ranks,  sent  by  invisible  hands.  The  vanguard  be- 
gan to  slacken  rein  and  to  halt;  but  Ellak,  giving 
the  spurs  to  his  horse,  ^cried  out:  "Why  do  you 
shrink  at  the  stinging  of  gnats?  Forward,  the 
plain  is  a  better  field  of  battle!" 

A  dozen  of  his  men  were  ordered  to  stay  behind, 
in  order  to  protect  the  baggage  and  camp  follow- 
ers against  their  hidden  enemies.  The  ground 
echoed  with  the  tramp  of  the  advancing  horde, 
and  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  plain  they  spread 
their  ranks,  and  uttering  a  wild  howl  advanced  to 
meet  the  approaching  column  of  the  arrier-ban. 

Far  ahead  rode  Ellak,  accompanied  by  the  Hun- 
nic  standard-bearer,  wiio  was  waving  the  green  and 
red  flag  over  his  head.  Uttering  a  piercing  cry, 
the  chieftain  now  lifted  himself  high  in  the  saddle, 
and  then  shot  off  the  first  arrow,  thus  opening  the 
battle  according  to  old  custom ;  and  now  the  bloody 
fight  began  in  good  earnest.  Little  availed  it  the 
Suabian  warriors  that  they  stood  firm  and  immov- 
able like  a  wall  of  lances ;  for  although  the  horses 
recoiled  before  them,   a  shower  of  arrows  was 

323 


Ekkehard  | 

sent  at  them  from  the  distance.  Half  raised  in 
the  stirrups,  with  the  reins  hanging  over  their 
horses'  necks,  the  Huns  took  aim,  and  generally 
their  arrows  hit  the  mark. 

Others  came  on  from  the  sides,  and  woe  to  the 
wounded  if  his  companions  did  not  take  him  into 
their  centre. 

Then  the  light  troops  intended  to  come  out  of 
the  fir  wood,  and  attack  the  Huns  from  behind. 
The  sound  of  the  bugle  again  collected  them  to- 
gether; they  advanced;  but,  quick  as  thought, 
their  enemies'  horses  were  turned  round,  and  a 
shower  of  arrows  greeted  them.  They  staggered, 
and  only  a  few  advanced,  but  these  also  were 
thrown  back,  so  that  finally  Audifax  was  left 
alone,  bravely  marching  along.  Many  an  arrow 
whizzed  round  his  head,  but  without  minding 
them,  or  once  looking  back,  he  blew  his  bagpipe, 
as  was  his  duty.  Thus  he  came  right  into  the 
midst  of  the  Hunnic  riders.  But  now  his  piping 
stopped  suddenly,  for  in  passing  one  of  the  Huns 
had  thrown  a  noose  over  his  head.  Trying  hard 
to  resist,  Audifax  looked  around,  but  not  a  single 
man  of  his  troop  was  to  be  seen.  "Oh  Hadu- 
moth!"  cried  he  mournfully.  The  rider  took  pity 
on  the  brave  fair-haired  boy;  so  instead  of  split- 
ting his  head,  he  lifted  him  up  into  the  saddle,  and 
galloped  away  to  the  place  where  the  Hunnic 
train  had  stopped,  under  the  shelter  of  a  hill. 

324 


Ekkehard 

With  erect  figure  the  woman  of  the  wood  stood  on 
her  cart,  intently  gazing  at  the  raging  battle.  She 
had  dressed  the  wounds  of  the  first  Huns  who  fell, 
pronouncing  some  powerful  charms  over  them 
to  stop  the  bleeding. 

"Here  I  bring  you  some  one  to  clean  the  camp- 
kettles!"  cried  the  Hunnic  rider,  throwing  the  boy 
over,  so  that  he  fell  right  into  the  cart,  and  at  the 
feet  of  the  old  woman. 

"Welcome,  thou  venomous  little  toad,"  cried 
she  fiercely.  "Thou  shalt  get  thy  reward  sure 
enough,  for  having  shown  the  way  up  to  my  house, 
to  that  cowl-bearer!"  She  had  recognized  him 
at  once,  and,  dragging  him  toward  her,  tied  him 
fast  to  the  cart. 

Audifax  remained  silent,  but  scalding  tears  fell 
from  his  eyes.  He  did  not  cry,  though,  on  account 
of  being  taken  prisoner,  but  he  cried  from  another 
heavy  disappointment.  "Oh  Hadumoth!"  sighed 
he  again.  Yesterday  at  midnight  he  had  sat  to- 
gether with  the  little  goose-girl,  hidden  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  fireplace.  "Thou  shalt  become  invul- 
nerable," Hadumoth  had  said,  "for  I  will  give 
thee  a  charm  against  all  weapons!"  She  had 
boiled  a  brown  snake,  and  anointed  his  forehead, 
shoulders,  and  breast  with  its  fat.  "To-morrow 
evening  I  shall  wait  for  thee  in  this  same  corner, 
for  thou  wilt  surely  come  back  to  me,  safe  and 
sound.    No  metal  can  do  anything  against  the  fat 

,:   325 


Ekkehard  ! 

of  a  snake."  Audifax  had  squeezed  Her  hands, 
and  had  gone  out  so  joyously  into  battle;  and 
now — 

The  fighting  was  still  going  on  in  the  plain, 
and  the  Suabian  combatants,  not  being  used  to 
battle,  began  to  get  tired  already.  With  an  anx- 
ious expression  Simon  Bardo  was  watching  the 
'state  of  affairs;  and  with  an  angry  shake  of  the 
head,  he  grumbled  to  himself :  "The  best  strategy 
is  lost  on  these  Centaurs,  who  come  and  go,  and 
shoot  at  a  distance,  as  if  my  threefold  flanks  stood 
there  only  to  amuse  them.  It  would  really  be 
well  if  one  were  to  add  a  chapter  to  Emperor 
Leo's  book  on  tactics,  treating  of  the  attack  of  the 
Huns." 

He  now  approached  the  monks,  and,  dividing 
them  up  into  two  bodies,  ordered  the  men  of  St. 
Gall  to  advance  on  the  right,  and  those  of  Reiche- 
nau  on  the  left;  they  were  then  to  wheel  about, 
so  that  the  enemy,  havmg  the  wood  at  his  back, 
would  be  shut  in  by  a  semicircle.  "If  we  do  not 
surround  them,  they  will  not  let  us  get  at  them,'* 
cried  he,  flourishing  his  broad  sword  in  the  air. 
"So  now  to  the  attack!" 

A  wild  fire  was  gleaming  in  all  eyes;  and  on 
the  point  of  starting,  they  all  dropped  down  on 
their  knees;  each  took  up  a  clod  of  earth,  and 
threw  it  over  his  head  that  he  might  be  conse- 
crated and  blessed  by  his  native  earth;  and  then 

326  I 


Ekkehard 

they  rushed  on  to  battle.  Those  of  St.  Gall  struck 
up  the  pious  war-song  o'f  ^^Media  vita"  Notker, 
the  stutterer,  had  once  passed  through  the  ravines 
of  the  Martistobel,  in  his  native  land,  when  a 
bridge  was  just  being  built  over  a  yawning  preci- 
pice. The  workmen  were  hanging  suspended 
over  the  giddy  height,  and  at  that  sight  the  idea 
rose  in  his  soul,  how  in  our  life  we  are  always 
walking  on  the  edge  of  the  abyss  of  death,  and  so 
he  composed  those  verses.  Now  they  served  as 
a  sort  of  magic  song,  which  was  to  protect  them 
and  bring  death  to  their  enemies.  Solemn  sounded 
its  strains  from  the  lips  of  the  men  going  into 
battle. 

"Though  yet  we  live,  by  Death  we  are  surrounded. 
And  ever  near  his  messengers  are  staying. 
Whom  could  we  choose,  to  help  us  in  great  danger. 
But  Thee,  oh  Lord,  the  judge  of  all  the  living! 
Almighty  God!" 

And  from  the  other  wing  the  monks  of  the 
Reichenau  were  singing: 

"Long  our  fathers  for  Thy  coming  panted, 
And  Thou  redeemest  them  from  sin  and  sorrow, 
Up  to  Thy  throne  arose  their  wailing  voices, 
And  Thou  didst  not  reject  their  tears  and  prayers, 
Thou  Lord  of  hosts!" 


Ekkehard 

And  from  both  sides  was  then  heard  at  once: 

"Forsake  us  not  when  our  strength  is  failing, 

Be  our  staff  when  courage  is  departing,  I 

Oh,  not  to  bitter  Death  give  up  Thy  children,  [ 

Almighty  God,  in  whom  we  all  are  trusting;  ' 

Merciful  God,  great  God  of  all  the  Heavens,  i 

Oh  Lord,  forsake  us  not !    Have  mercy  on  us !"       | 

I 

Thus  they  advanced  in  close  order  of  battle. 
With  unmitigated  surprise  the  Huns  had  beheld 
the  approaching  columns.  Howls,  and  the  hissing, 
devilish  cry  of  ^^HuU  hui!''  was  their  response  to 
the  "Media  vita."  Ellak  likewise  now  divided 
his  horsemen  for  a  regular  attack,  and  the  fighting 
continued  fiercer  than  ever.  The  Hunnic  horse- 
men soon  broke  through  the  ranks  of  the  small 
body  of  the  monks  of  St.  Gall,  and  a  close  fight 
then  began.  It  was  strength  wrestling  with  swift- 
ness, German  awkwardness  against  Hunnic  cun- 
ning. 

The  earth  of  the  Hegau  was  then  dyed  red 
with  the  blood  of  many  a  pious  man.  Tutilo,  the 
strong,  was  slain.  He  had  pulled  down  a  Hun 
from  his  horse  by  the  feet,  and,  swinging  the  wry- 
faced  wretch  through  the  air,  split  his  skull  against 
a  stone ;  but  a  moment  afterward  an  arrow  pierced 
the  temple  of  the  hoary  warrior.  Like  the  vic- 
torious hymns  of  the  heavenly  host,  it  sounded 
through  his  wounded  brain;  then  he  fell  down  on 

328 


Ekkehard 

his  slain  foe.  Sindolt,  the  wicked,  atoned  for 
many  a  bad  trick  which  he  had  played  his 
brothers  in  former  times  by  the  death-wound  in 
his  breast;  and  nothing  did  it  avail  Dubslan,  the 
Scot,  that  he  had  made  a  vow  to  St.  Minwaloius, 
to  go  barefoot  to  Rome,  if  he  would  protect  him 
in  this  battle — for  he  also  was  carried  dead  out 
of  the  afifray. 

When  the  blows  rained  down  on  the  helmets 
like  hailstones  on  slate  roofs,  old  Moengal  drew 
his  hood  over  his  head,  so  that  he  could  look 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left;  then  throwing 
away  his  spear,  he  cried :  "Out  with  thee  now,  my 
old  Cambutta."  Unbuckling  his  beloved  shillalah, 
which  had  accompanied  him,  fastened  to  his  back, 
he  now  stood  like  a  thrasher  on  the  barn-floor. 
For  some  time  a  horseman  had  capered  around 
him.  ^''Kyrie  eleisonf  sang  out  the  old  man,  break- 
ing the  horse's  skull  at  one  blow.  With  both  feet 
the  rider  jumped  to  the  ground,  grazing  Moen- 
gal's  arm  with  his  crooked  sabre.  "Heigho,"  ex- 
claimed he,  "in  spring  'tis  a  good  thing  to  be  bled; 
but  take  care,  little  surgeon!"  aiming  a  blow 
at  him,  as  if  he  wanted  to  strike  him  ten  fathoms 
deep  into  the  ground.  But  the  Hun  evaded 
the  blow,  and  while  doing  so  the  helmet  fell 
off  and  disclosed  a  soft  and  rosy  face,  framed 
in  by  long  wavy  tresses  interwoven  with  red  rib- 
bons.   Before  Moengal  could  think  of  aiming  an- 

329 


Ekkehard  ' 

other  blow,  his  antagonist  jumped  up  at  him  like 
a  tiger-cat;  the  young,  fresh  face  approached  his, 
affording  him  as  it  were  in  his  old  days  an  oppor- 
tunity of  culling  a  kiss  from  coral  lips;  but  the  mo- 
ment after  he  received  a  sharp  bite  on  his  cheek. 
Clasping  his  assailant,  he  felt  a  soft  and  slender 
waist.  ''Take  thyself  away,  goblin,"  cried  he. 
''Has  hell  sent  out  her  she-devils  also?"  Here, 
another  bite,  for  the  sake  of  symmetry,  saluted 
him  on  the  left  cheek.  He  started  back,  but  be- 
fore he  had  raised  his  bludgeon  again  Erica  had 
jumped  on  a  horse  which  had  lost  its  rider,  and 
gaily  laughing  she  rode  away,  swift  as  a  dream 
that  vanishes  at  cock-crow.   ...  : 

In  the  midst  of  the  vassals  fought  Master  Spazzo, 
the  chamberlain,  heading  a  troop.  The  slow  ad- 
vance had  rather  pleased  him,  but  when  the  fight 
seemed  to  come  to  no  conclusion,  and  men  were 
clinging  to  each  other,  like  the  hounds  to  the  deer 
in  a  chase,  then  it  became  rather  too  much  for 
him.  A  dreamy,  pensive  mood  came  over  him  in 
the  middle  of  the  raging  battle,  and  only  when  a 
passing  rider  pulled  off  his  helmet,  as  an  accept- 
able booty,  was  he  roused  from  his  meditations, 
and  when  the  same,  renewing  the  experiment, 
tried  to  drag  off  his  mantle,  he  cried  out  angrily: 
''Is  it  not  yet  enough,  thou  marksman  of  the 
Devil?"  dealing  him  at  the  same  time  a  thrust  with 
his  long  sword,  which  pinned  the  Hun's  thigh  to 

330  I 


Ekkehard 

his  own  horse.  Master  Spazzo  then  thought  of 
giving  him  his  death-blow,  but  on  looking  into 
his  face  he  found  it  so  very  ugly  that  he  resolved 
to  bring  him  home  to  his  mistress,  as  a  living  me- 
mento of  the  battle.  So  he  made  the  wounded 
man  his  prisoner.  His  name  was  Cappan,  and 
putting  his  head  under  Master  Spazzo's  arm,  in 
sign  of  submission,  he  grinned  with  delight,  show- 
ing two  rows  of  shining  white  teeth,  perceiving 
that  his  life  had  been  spared. 

Hornebog  had  led  his  troops  against  the  brothers 
of  the  Reichenau.  Here  also  grim  Death  was  reap- 
ing a  rich  harvest.  The  cloister  walls  glistened  in 
the  distance  over  the  lake,  like  an  appeal  to  the 
combatants  to  exert  their  utmost  strength;  and 
many  a  Hun  who  came  within  reach  of  their 
swords  found  out  that  he  was  treading  on  Suabian 
ground,  where  heavy  blows  are  as  plentiful  as 
wild  strawberries  in  summer.  But  the  ranks  of 
the  brothers  also  were  considerably  thinned.  Qui- 
rinius,  the  scrivener,  was  resting  forever  from 
the  writing-cramp,  which  had  caused  the  spear  in 
his  right  hand  to  tremble.  Beside  him  there  fell 
Wiprecht,  the  astronomer,  and  Kerimold,  the  mas- 
ter of  salmon-fishing,  and  Witigowo,  the  archi- 
tect. Who  knows  them  all,  the  nameless  heroes 
who  met  a  glorious  end  that  day? 

Only  one  of  the  monks  had  reason  to  be  grate- 
ful to  a  Hunnic  arrow,  and  that  was  brother  Pil- 

331 


Ekkchard  | 

sjcram.  He  was  born  at  Cologne  on  the  Rhine, 
and  had  carried  his  thirst  of  knowledge,  as  well  as 
a  mighty  goitre,  to  St.  Pirmin's  isle,  where  he  was 
one  ot  the  most  learned  and  most  pious  monks; 
but  his  gvMtre  increased  and  he  became  hypochon- 
driac over  the  ethics  of  Aristotle,  so  that  Heribald 
had  often  said  to  him:  "Pilgrim,  I  pity  thee." 
But  now  a  Hunnic  arrows  pierced  the  excrescence 
on  his  throat.  "Farewell,  friend  of  my  youth  1" 
cried  he  on  sinking  down;  but  the  wound  was  not 
dangerous,  and  when  his  consciousness  returned, 
he  felt  his  throat  as  well  as  his  head  considerably 
lightened,  and  from  that  moment  he  never  opened 
Aristotle  again.  ' 

Round  the  standard  of  St.  Gall  a  select  body 
of  men  had  rallied.  The  black  streamers  still 
floated  in  the  air  from  the  image  on  the  cross;  but 
the  contest  w  as  doubtful.  With  word  and  action, 
Ekkehard  encouraged  his  companions  not  to  give 
way.  but  it  w^as  Ellak  himself  who  fought  against 
them.  The  bodies  of  slain  men  and  horses  cum- 
bered the  ground  in  confused  heaps.  They  who 
survived  had  done  their  duty,  and  when  all  are 
brave  no  single  heroic  deed  can  claim  its  special 
share  of  glory.  Sir  Burkhard's  sword  had  re- 
ceived a  new  baptism  of  blood  in  Ekkehard's 
hands,  but  in  vain  had  he  fiercely  attacked  Ellak, 
the  chieftain;  for  after  having  exchanged  a  few 
blows  and  thrusts,  they  were  separated  again  by 


Ekkehard 

other  combatants.  Already  the  cross,  towering  on 
high,  began  to  waver,  aimed  at  by  unceasing 
arrows,  when  a  loud  cry  of  surprise  rang  through 
the  ranks;  for  from  the  hill  on  which  stood  the 
tower  of  Hohenfriedingen  two  unknown  horse- 
men in  strange-looking  armor  came  galloping  at 
full  speed  toward  the  scene  of  battle.  One  of 
them,  who  was  of  mighty  bulk,  sat  heavily  on  his 
steed.  Both  shield  and  harness  were  of  antiquated 
shape,  but  the  faded  golden  ornaments  indicated 
the  high  birth  of  the  wearer.  A  golden  band 
encircled  his  helmet,  from  which  a  tuft  of  red 
feathers  waved.  His  mantle  fluttering  in  the  wind, 
and  his  lance  leveled,  he  looked  like  a  picture  of 
the  olden  times;  like  King  Saul  in  Folkard's 
psalm-book  riding  to  meet  David.  Close  by  his 
side  rode  his  companion,  a  faithful  vassal,  ready 
to  succor  and  protect  him. 

" 'Tis  the  Archangel  Michael!''  cried  some  in 
the  Christian  ranks,  and  with  this  their  strength 
rallied.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly  on  the 
strange  rider's  arms — like  an  omen  of  victory — 
and  a  few  moments  later  the  two  were  in  the 
midst  of  the  battle.  He  with  the  gilt  armor  was 
looking  about  for  a  worthy  antagonist,  whom  he 
soon  found,  for  when  the  Hunnic  chieftain's  keen 
eyes  had  spied  him  out,  his  horse's  head  was  turned 
toward  him.  The  spear  of  the  stranger  knight 
passed  harmlessly  by  him,  missing  its  aim ;  and 


3->  -» 


Ekkehard 

Ellak's  sword  was  already  raised  to  deal  him  the 
death-blow,  when  his  squire  threw  himself  between 
the  two.  His  broad  sword  merely  struck  the 
enemy's  horse,  so,  bending  his  head  forward,  to 
catch  the  blow  meant  for  his  master,  the  faithful 
squire  met  his  death. 

With  a  loud,  clattering  sound  EUak's  horse  fell 
to  the  ground,  but  before  the  sound  had  quite  died 
out  the  Hun  had  already  recovered  his  feet.  The 
unknown  knight  raised  his  mace,  to  break  his 
enemy's  head,  but  EUak,  with  his  left  foot  placed 
tightly  on  the  body  of  his  dead  courser,  pressed 
back  the  raised  arm  with  his  sinewy  hands,  trying 
at  the  same  time  to  pull  him  down.  Then,  face  to 
face,  the  two  mighty  ones  began  wrestling,  so  that 
those  around  them  ceased  fighting  to  look  on. 

With  a  cunning  movement,  EUak  now  seized  his 
short  sword,  but  just  when  he  lifted  his  arm  his 
antagonist's  mace  came  down  slowly  but  heavily 
on  his  head.  Yet  his  hand  still  dealt  the  thrust, 
and  then  lifting  it  up  to  his  forehead,  over  which 
the  blood  was  running  in  streams,  EUak  reeled 
back  on  his  war-horse,  and  a  moment  later  the 
Hunnic  chieftain  gave  up  the  ghost  with  a  groan 
of  despair. 

"Here,  sword  of  God  and  St.  Michael!"  trium- 
phantly rose  again  the  joint  cry  of  monks  and  lay- 
men. Rallying  their  strength,  they  rushed  on  to 
one  last  despairing  attack.    The  knight  in  the  gilt 

334  i 


Ekkehard 

armor  was  still  the  foremost  in  the  fight.  The 
death  of  their  leader  caused  such  a  panic  to  the 
Huns  that  they  turned  round  and  sped  away  in 
wild,  disorderly  flight. 

The  woman  of  the  wood  had  already  perceived 
the  unfavorable  turn  which  the  battle  was  taking. 
Her  horses  were  ready  harnessed,  and  casting  one 
last  angry  glance  at  the  victorious  monks  and  the 
rocky  mountain  which  had  once  been  her  home, 
she  drove  on  the  horses  at  a  quick  pace  in  the 
direction  of  the  Rhine,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the 
train.  "To  the  Rhine!"  was  the  watchword  of  the 
flying  Huns.  Hornebog  was  the  last  who  unwill- 
ingly turned  his  back  on  the  battle-field  and  the 
Hohentwiel. 

"Farewell  till  next  year!"  cried  he,  tauntingly. 

The  victory  was  gained ;  but  he  whom  they  be- 
lieved to  be  the  Archangel  Michael  sent  to  their 
rescue  now  let  his  heavy  head  sink  down  on  his 
horse's  neck.  Reins  and  weapons  had  both  fallen 
from  his  hands,  and  whether  the  cause  was  the  last 
thrust  of  the  Hunnic  chieftain,  or  suffocation  in 
the  heat  of  the  battle,  he  was  lifted  down  from  his 
horse  a  dead  man.  On  opening  his  vizor,  a  happy 
smile  was  still  visible  on  his  wrinkled  face,  and 
from  that  hour  the  headache  of  the  old  man  of  the 
Heidenhohle  had  ceased  forever. 

A  black  dog  ran  about  searching  on  the  battle- 
field till  he  found  the  old  man's  body.    Dismally 

335 


Ekkehard 

howling  he  then  licked  his  forehead,  Ekkehard 
standing  near,  with  a  tear  in  his  eye,  saying  a 
prayer  for  the  welfare  of  his  soul.  .  .  . 

The  conquerors  returned  to  the  Hohentwiel, 
their  helmets  adorned  with  green  fir  twigs,  and 
leaving  twelve  of  the  brothers  behind  to  watch 
the  dead  on  the  battle-field.  Of  the  Huns,  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty  had  fallen  in  battle,  while  the 
Suabian  vassalage  had  lost  ninety-six,  the  Reiche- 
nau  monks  eighteen,  and  those  of  St.  Gall  twenty, 
besides  the  old  man  and  Rauching,  his  bondman. 

With  a  handkerchief  tied  round  his  face,  Moen- 
gal  stalked  over  the  field,  using  his  shillalah  as  a 
walking-staff.  One  by  one  he  examined  the  dead. 
"Hast  thou  not  seen  a  Hun  among  them  who  in 
reality  is  a  Hunnic  woman?"  he  asked  one  of  the 
brothers  keeping  watch.  ! 

"No,"  was  the  reply. 

"Then  I  may  as  well  go  home,"  said  Moengal. 


VOLUME  ONE 


336 


